I had been swathed
on his tender flesh
even when bathing
in waters ever so fresh.
But now I'm all washed
up and worn out.
Now I'm dispatched
forever unattached,
torn , forlorn …
He became so thin-skinned
I couldn’t soothe him
anymore.
How is it that I wound
up being the one in need to be healed?
Great poem, Marinarena. You have such a way with words. :)
Very nice!