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Crystalline

By Caledfwlch All Rights Reserved ©

Poetry

Chapter 1

My body is not a garden, no,
No peonies here, no lily whites
No thorns on roses for you to
Pick, pick, pick
Your teeth clean on.

No, my body is not a garden,
What you plant comes up sour
Comes up poison
In my throat and I spit out bile.
The toilet smells like you, my soil smells like you.
Pack up your bags, drive home from the hospital.

I am not a garden, no,
No pretty spaces for you to plant your rows in,
No clean teeth you can slip between
I’m all rotting fangs that harden to the touch.
I’ve torched and burned myself and started new
Dark ashes
And nothing but embers to guide my way.
Look at me, now
I’m hot as blood,
Biting into your cold hands
Look at me now
How dare you try to plant these flowers into me.

My body is not a fucking garden
For you to trim the belongings of
I have no soft petals. I have no thorns.

My body is a tundra
An icy, frozen landscape
Harsh as my teeth and flat
Flatter
Flowers that have to claw to the surface and beg for my mercy.
You will not trim them.
I floss my teeth with these and they
Sparkle.

My body is not your garden.
I plant my own seeds now.
I clean my own teeth now.
I kiss my own wrists now.
Every flower and every leaf will have to crawl
Its way through me
For my barricade skin won’t open for the weak, my pores shut up, my teeth ice shards, I devour my fill.
I pack up my bags, drive north. The harsh wind whittles me down and fills me up
Until I may give enough, my icecap body rock hard and solid.

Summer is here. I won’t melt.

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William Elliott Kern: Silvia, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts, experiences and soul with the world. I wish you the best on your continued journey in self expression, reaching your journeys goals and finding the answers that all life is searching for and then, through life itself, the end is now, just the ...

ItsAnnier: Great original idea! Long poems don't often hold me, but yours did to the end and made me want more of the story. Was it a Crime of passion with the murderer returning to the crime scene? I hope further poems will tell me more!

maxniederhofer: Kara,I loved this. The one suggestion I would make is to show me, don't tell me. E.g."Now look at your skin / It is beautiful / You are beauty pure."It might be better to use more evocative imagery and language to make me feel, i.e. truly comprehend, the pure beauty, rather than telling me it is ...

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