you will speak
when spoken to
hollow tin cans
washed and stored
for emergency calls
the sacred wonder
to be visible
behind the jellyfish spine
i spoke
you heard no sound
soap scum
lines the rim
of my mind
careless words
left caressing sores
better left behind
lies
all of them
left you
before i was stolen
my soul ebbs
flows on
toward the echo
wedged inside
seasons: a poetic journey 
Another good one
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Profound.
Art can be healing too, don’t you think?
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Deep.
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Scar tissue… yep. 😔💔
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