Taut skin and heartstrings You left me Hope begins to pass with each impression of the looking glass Time contracts as do I Close your eyes, stay awhile Hush my babies Eternal lullaby
I know what you’re thinking; what does that fitty from GoT have to do with accepting your body, but that exquisite example of prime time jailbait is the namesake for my pelvic floor tear which for years I avoided touching, let alone braving the mirror #thelaceswereintheywerein (honestly it looked like a blind man had used... Continue Reading →
Moonlit scars, rapid breaths, parchment lids welcome velvet rest. Chests arise, oceans fall; fatigued limbs still to half light call. Memories play beneath the skin, an urge of unknown origin. Dawn breaks over weary bones, old wounds settle home. Pendulums swing, clocks tick, there is no limit to a heart's stitch.
Bones shatter, bruises bloom, skin tears, all these wounds eventually heal in time owing to the body’s orchestral symphony for repair; but what of the lingering memory of trauma? The shock absorbed by the unsuspecting injury site? Often the most painful memories flood our senses and implore our decaying exoskeleton; skin bristles, fine hairs arise... Continue Reading →