Eve Who Ate the Apple
blue ink sky of silent solitude.
Yes, my whisper is that toneless breath on the wind.
A truth speaking louder than words.
And yes,
my night will swallow you.
Devour you,
whole.
The unspoken song of a woman confined by the roles placed upon our bodies by men.
By those without sight, wisdom, nor intuition.
Yes, we see this all, a shadowy, hazy vision,
and stand by to make way for your falling stars
Captured in our open hands, still swollen from the endless throb of
our taboo sexuality.
