Walloped

An old demon punched me
in the face as I slept -
punched me hard.

Delicate wounds ripped open

with recollection.
Blood rushed, swelling scars,
morphing my mug
to a puffer fish pout.

In the mirror,

I find myself transformed
back some twenty-seven years -
a teenager tenderly touching
ghostly stitches.


4 comments:

Andrea Dawn said...

Reminds me of a dream I had last night . . . some old wounds from soured friendships that have lost a lot of their sting but still left me feeling unsettled.

Your writing is packed with emotion and always touched me deeply.

Letitia said...

Thank you Andrea... I am grateful and humbled that you appreciate my poetry in much the same way I appreciate your photos. I only wish the inspiration for this one came from a dream -- unfortunately, it came from a cold settling into the scars on my face. It was not very pretty... ;) Thank you always for your visits and support.

Eva Trillian said...

September is coming to an end. And it is with relief I wave good bye to it and look forward to a cozy autumn:
Your lovely comment lies in my inbox still and I read it when I need cheering up :)The thought of living in someones future makes it really worth while to make the best of it! :)
Your poetry touches my soul. Your words above I read with recognition ...

Sending you warm and friendly greetings!

Letitia said...

Thank you Eva. After being away from this blog for so long, I was warmed to see your comment. And... knowing that someone lives in my future makes me look forward to it all the more. ;) Time, like life, is such a strange and wonderful thing.

All my love and gratitude...

A Promise Kept

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