My Atmosphere

I love roses
when I smell them
I bleed. I’m full
of crimson
scratches heal
to brown
scabs
some ooze
infection

leave scars and
don’t go away

I still
feel
the thick tissue
covering my tan
skin
marked.

No disguise
I push everyone off me
I can’t
bear
the weight
the hot
heavy
breathing

I don’t know
about you
but the humidity
kills me

the rain
will let the pressure
out of my
atmosphere

I might
be able
to breathe.

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15 thoughts on “My Atmosphere

  1. I wish I understood poetry more >.<
    I'm not always too sure what is being sad or what is REALLY being said.
    But I always give great respect and applause to those who write it. So great job getting this out there girl! Because beauty is in courage and in sharing.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I love poetry, and find it cathartic to read and write. I know so many people try to dissect it, line by line, but that takes away from the experience. Yes, it should provoke thought, but it should also be a creative journey. That said, I enjoyed this piece for what it spoke to me. Thanks for sharing!

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you. Here’s the thing with my poetry . It happens not on purpose. I have seizures . When that happens I lose words. My editor took what I considered fails & showed me it was not a fail. I am thankful you enjoyed it!

      Like

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