Petals of Lace

I reach to touch.
Under arch of my bicep.
Top of my side.
Information processed.
Hands brush lace.
Revulsion evoked.

Texture pulling me down into textures I cannot hold.

They are not dreams.
They are not quite reality.
Displaced in disfigurement.
Scars of polluted justice.
A cross to throw at Father.
An error of the multi-process.

Sensory information redefined.

It WAS only lace this time.
Scars soften over the space.
Memory wanes.
Darkness recedes…
or envelopes.
Children are left wanting.

Children left to tend fields of scars and spent ashtray’s while Father rests.

EmMa

Petals of Lace

Edibl3leper

New Haven, United States

Artist's Description

Note: This is written in the voice of Emma, from the story I began to write approx. 3 months ago. If you’ve found this poem and wish to read more of Emma’s mind, you are in the right folder. smile If not please take what you can from it, enjoy, hate, just participate. (-:

Not every petal is delicate in it’s appearance, as every women doesn’t necessarily appreciate lace. Occasionally it is our rough edges that define us, that lead us to our “soft”. Emma may not know what she has stumbled upon but the idea is planted somewhere between her convoluted self appraisal and hate.

Insider Info, my inspiration is often rooted in truth, for the first 3/4’s of this poem there is no metaphor, in this Emma share’s my mind, and an experience I had today, and makes it her own. As a writer, I really do put myself into the character, perhaps too much. (-:

Artwork Comments

  • Symmetry48
  • Edibl3leper
  • Edibl3leper
  • Dr. Harmeet Singh
  • Edibl3leper
  • lilynoelle
  • Edibl3leper
  • lilynoelle
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