confessionals and currency – House of Heart

Sheer scarves cover

a bed side  lamp

as night slips in on tiger paws

the swaying beams of a velvet

moon drift through  veils  of lilac tulle

Her egg shell limbs are  caught

in binds, her breasts alert gazelles

she is the red of womanhood

her eyes the shade of currency

Her mind is  his confessional

and there is no sin grave enough

for more at House of Heart, click here.. wait, no here: https://houseofheartweb.wordpress.com/

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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