I watch him for a long time my soul beating itself to death behind two blue, convex windows. He lies flat, face white as an envelope, eyes motionless and entombed. There is only water between us fathoms of tears curdled and blackened by unresolveable tempests. His kisses are soft and evocative like smoke but he no longer employs my feminine aspect. Sometimes I touch myself when he sleeps, as if my body were a conduit and not merely a substitute. The fire in me is not yet extinguished. I know that he feels it, at times, but he rarely yields. He is content to toil in his garden of bitter fruits.
About the Poet:
Yves K. Morrow lives in Sweden with her husband and soon to be teenage daughter. Mindlovemisery reflects the subjects most extensively explored in her poetry. Mind- philosophy, psychology, mental illness, society Love- loss, unrequited, infatuations and obsessions, sex, true love, new love, relationships of all sorts both dysfunctional and sublime Misery- childhood trauma, Depression, living with PTSD, the search for meaning, loneliness, spiritual dilemmas grief, social ineptitude etc. Aside from writing and inspiring others to write Yves enjoys reading, training, dancing poorly, absurdity and sarcasm.
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