Sunday Stew: Why

by Lola E Peters

She wants to stand before him naked
Devoid of the burdensome mantle of history
Breasts unfettered by the requirements of others’ needs
Belly free to breathe life deep
Womb available to pleasure

She leans her head toward his bare shoulder
And meets only the ends of barbs
Constructed to preserve his survival
Her mere touch opening near-healed wounds
His recoil her ever-present rejection

She stands before him fully costumed
Each layer self-reinforced
Stanching pain at its root
He sees untouchable mystery
She sees unreachable strength

Together they die alone.

 

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