Born
Hole-hearted
Echos of the primordial
Void before time
Murmured secrets
Of non existence
In soft waves of
Becoming
The years stitch up the muscle
With old calendar pages
And the ghost of the secret
Chamber in her
Driving passion
Sings a song of
Stoic temptation
And she succumbs
And falls fetal
Inside of an encoded lullabye
Windswept
And discarded
By the broken boughs
Of Mother
Tears trapped
Behind faux eyelash-bars
Paint punished and
Guilty eyes
Black stare
Energy leaks
Into a deep and cavernous
Memory
They bled the child
Wondering
If there was something wrong
With her heart
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