thaw

and
suddenly
(so        very         suddenly)
the flagellations of every sunrise
the raw wounds
of morning
the taste of blood
or metal
or something in between
leave
depart

i think they left in the night
with little
or no warning

(it all happened
so        very        suddenly
it is all
so hard
to say)

the bruise on my upper arm
has shrunk
turned yellowgreen
(i do not know
how
it got there
i do not remember
how
it left)
the purple violence seething
leaking out
from churning violet veins
is now
the colour of leaves
left
under lightbulbs

my flesh is coming back
to me

i am ravenous
for
the first time
in weeks
no,
it is months,
months
that
(at the time)
i did not see
clearly
(my eyes were clouded
i was famished
it was a famine
i was living in)

the thaw is playing
on my pillow
what sweet breeze
what sweet music

i do not wake
with starvation sickness
i do not wake
with bitter
ice cold burns
i do not wake
before the dawn
leaves its traces
on the edges
of my mind
i do not wake
with the weight
of wakefulness

i am ravenous

(it is foolish to say
i miss the vivid
lilac brash)

i am sleeping better

(it is masochistic
it is cruel
it is out of place)

i do not feel
nothing
i do not feel
i am
nothing

i can feel the thaw
on my pillow

(it is not love)

(it is foolish to say
one must
suffer
to feel
alive)

(it is foolish
to miss the vivid
lilac brash
that
like
every bruising
will at some point
fade)

i woke up
with a smile
lingering
in the shadows
of my lips

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