They say
my sting
has lost
its venom
my rancour
its acid
My wound
has become antique
Hot metal
a fouled alloy
The rage of peace
threatens
the lesion
I nurse
I have cast off
grief's golden harvest
Coaxing
luminous fingers,
my armour
infiltrated
He's
Humoured
my heart
back
from its exile
Tempered
my malice
Corseted me
in a sequinned cage
like a flower blooming in the time of grief and about to fade when the better times are to be back!
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