Bottled up

Bottle of pain leaks.
Daily, tears flow and blood seeps.
Fragile is her heart.

Therein,
we died,
but, I live,
still.

Therein,
I buried your kisses
and your caresses
of my tresses
and crevices.

Therein,
I laid pains,
and, the chains
wrought from times
when you made it rain
on my skin.

Therein,
I sat your abuse,
and, the misuse
of my blues
to cook up a ruse
that I’m no use
at our barbecues.

Therein,
lies my disillusion
with your illusions
that our combination
though poisonous,
was a dream coalition.

Therein,
hurt ended,
though relived
daily.

Sealed hurts run amock
Despair thrives where they are hid.
Open! Let wounds heal.

©Aweni Adams August 2019

This was written in response to Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday photo challenge.

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