poem: daggers – 25/02/22


daggers in her eyes
she is potent with her stare
take a needle and thread and prick that evil eye
with precise care
the deepest blue you did ever see
boring into her into me
flight takin now
irreverently
disrespectful they’ve brought her, me,
down to our knees

bruises form
it’s a part of our love
delicate delicate pink gangly bird
won’t you realise
they don’t want you to go
because it’s better off remaining
in the syncing of our clarified minds
the twins the twins
what’s left of them
decimated before they were even alive

but this is the way it should be
this is the way the
countering of my feels
I don’t have the right to procreate
said she
I don’t have the right to bring another
into the world
not with our lingering malignancy
mental health disease

I live in this haze of what’s right and
what is wrong
loaded bullet, baby,
do not ever face that gun
neither shine it on a spotlight
you are not a martyr from kingdom come
stop crying, what’s in your mouth,
disgusting,
let us come undone.
(25/02/22).
© 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
Image from Pixabay

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