I Once Was New

 

My body has been used;
tossed to the ground
to wipe away indiscretions,
and the grinding filth
of lying whores.

My heart has been starved;
cupped in sweaty palms
to ease burdens,
and the murky hypocrisy
of righteous men.

My spirit has been wrung;
pulled inside of fists
to stretch truths,
and the sour hesitation
of bitter regret.

My soul has been worn;
placed upon rails
to catch tears,
and the heavy wetness
of desperate sins.

© Nicole Lyons 2017

7 comments

  1. Strange connections happen
    Into my head, my ear
    There pops this fragment
    Of Leonard Cohen

    “But I’m stubborn as those garbage bags
    That Time cannot decay
    I’m junk but I’m still holding up
    This little wild bouquet”

    Even in that battered tale
    Wild flowers bloom

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Oddly beautiful, sad, haunting and triumphant all at the same time. I think that for those of us who have crawled through fire there is tremendous comfort in seeing the beauty of others who have walked that path of broken glass surrounded by flame and still remember who they are. Or I could just be babbling.

    Liked by 2 people

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