Spilling Out...
Spilling Out... found poetry stories
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lindajwolff
lindajwolffwww.wolffpoetry.com
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
I’m WILLING to bleed.

Source: ©Linda J. Wolff https://wolffpoetry.com/s...

Spilling Out...

by ©Linda J. Wolff

I write to open wounds, to bleed out onto a canvas.

To purify scars.

In, “Spilling Out – Found Poetry,”

what is the sense of holding onto scars,

if one cannot heal?

How long does one want to feel pain from the folds of the heart?

Spilling Out – Found Poetry

Spilling out—

I’m WILLING to bleed.

Because if I am a realistic woman,

then it’s my purpose to tell myself when

I am walking in a black raincoat under maple trees.

That maple trees hold the sky’s emotions;

if I am a poet of poetry, I must write the raw, fresh cut.

If I am a poet for meditative thinking

I want to pour a health potion of healing.

Maple trees as viridescence as village green glass.

And my fingers throb because I wrote a piece of poetry

about a girl who swallowed dark, gray clouds whole.

Because of the heavy rain, she could drown and if she cannot survive.

I cannot escape.

Maple trees are swaying in a glass.

Because sadly I would rather sit in solace than to be sad.

Because of certain circumstances, I make allowances

Because here I am enjoying life and she is suffering.

If I am a poet— If I am a girl,

if the amount of care is always precisely the same,

I show my bleeding ink to the reader.

Maple trees the color of fallen leaves.

Maples trees the color of brilliant new buds.

©Linda J. Wolff

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