My body looks wounded
Battered and bruised
You touch it, it shudders
Dark skin, dirty secrets
Written all over this flesh
Destruction seared into my bones
My soul holds truth
But I find myself bound and gagged
Unable to speak it

Honey, or Vinegar?


What are you scared of?  What thoughts swim through your mind, keeping you up at night? Are you afraid of being lost or forgotten? Left alone or unloved? Perhaps you have a fear of leaving or being left.

So much to worry about.  So many things plague the mind.  I know a girl who is afraid to be loved.  Afraid to be seen.  She closes her eyes each night and draws her blankets close about her.  Convinced that they, with their warmth and comfort, are a more than satisfactory replacement for a lover.  She wanders through her day sharing thoughts with herself, having no one else to share them with.  They whirl through her head, like a tornado spinning, round and round, making her dizzy with their movement.

Occasionally, she lets someone in.  Just inside the gateway to her heart.  Testing. Watching.  Seeing how they do.  How gentle are they? How loving? What spills from their lips, drips out of their pores – is it honey, or vinegar?