deepundergroundpoetry.com

Her Belonging

 

Her slender vases exposed her frailty
and blasphemous primal tendencies.
Never a spec of dust had sat for more than an hour
without her religious dusting substituting her lust.


She gets up in the mornings just to keep alive, hoping
though she doesn't know what for.
She doesn't understand loneliness, she knows
she's alone and her being is poised on evading thoughts.


She feared the sky at night; to her it appeared
as fireflies caught in a giant cobweb
because reality would give her a stroke
and she's scared enough of spiders.


Her father was the closest she'd ever been to a man
and he was a kind man, overbearing perhaps
but not to her; she worshipped his every word.
So she had god because he believed, then he died.


In the early hours of the morning she'd glisten
between her legs for reasons known to nature
and instinct would coax her fingers to fathom
with the distortions of her father's love.


In the darkness of her room at night moved
another darkness, as pale as an unseen moon -

on these nights, she is at her most primal
belonging to a time of fire and savagery.
Worshiping men like vases beneath
the cobweb that strikes fear and pulls them deeper.
Written by MrAlptraum (Mr A)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5 reading list entries 0
comments 8 reads 659
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:56am by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES
SPEAKEASY
Today 4:15am by Grace
SPEAKEASY
Today 3:33am by DCLXVI_1989
COMPETITIONS
Today 00:41am by Louismatteo349
SPEAKEASY
Yesterday 11:19pm by Ahavati
POETRY
Yesterday 11:05pm by Grace