Poetry

Rage

The sweetness belies a hard, bitter, toxic core.

Photo by Alexander Mils on Unsplash

My heart is a ripe peach. Soft flesh, life’s blood
Flayed open to the bitter almond core -
A poisoned kernel you carelessly mistook
For a nut. Bite deep, and taste the juices.

In silence, as war, we call no truces.
Memory turns crumbling pages of the book
You call a mind, illustrated no more.
Just letters, words, and colors in a flood.

Touch me, and I will set my hair on fire
While you scream, to prove I still burn for you.