SALT
I'm sorry that I didn't write.
My soul is just too raw & the
Thoughts dredged up
Wound me all over &
Poetry is the salt
Grinding itself into them,
Making them real, reminding
Me, digging into layers of
Flesh barely scabbed over as I
Drop words on the page drop by
Bloody, salty drop.
Writer's Digest Poetic Asides PAD12 -LAMENT
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