Where to go, where to keep woe

I take myself back to clean old tears
I see the world through milked roses,
Pearly rivers, sparkling stones in cold waters
Running my hands through beaded sunshine

I give up busy, bustling voices
Those of skin I love or hair I had breathed
I don’t rush to braid long, untouched weeds
Sat under my thighs, my lap empty

My stung skin soothed by breathing sapience,
Winged whispering angels in soft wind
Not raw, nor rotting flowered swans and letting go
Blooming shivers like pearls on ever-healing skin

Must I bleed, let it be worth abandon
Of places softer than shining satin curves
Behind flesh eyelids, soft, dark lashes
You stay, you call to shelter me in something purer than I had found home