Flight of petals


In and out, it comes like a religion I forgot or never knew. I feel the touch, the feel of it on my skin as I take a breath and feel the water pour over my scalp.

Changing and moving toward the now and not the then. Graphic and bullied is the way it felt.

Love comes in spirals, and petals of white, pink and red.

The smell surrounds me in the room. I don’t see her but she’s there. It’s the smell that tells me so.

Slipping back, I feel the tug, the grasping of the strings and my soul is back and waiting for another flight.

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