Poem 7

I locked my libido in a music box and threw away the key. I hold hands with the sandman in my own purgatory.  The ballerina never springs up or twirls for me but instead lay on her side.  forever in slumber but alert enough to come alive for me to remember. My tiny dancer waits forever impatient and yearning for Springtime, where she may come back to life. March hair. My fair May queen. Teenage dream cotton candy pink with glitter and cobwebs gleeming pristine picket fences coverd in poison ivy and hibiscus trees. But when she comes alive again like nature itself the beauty will be too much to bare. I will cut the cord that binds her and set her free. I will release that little ballerina in the music box with the Skelton key that i hold within my sanctuary. I’ll let her free inside of me. Prisms will emit peacock feathers circulating the air i will be in love again . jasmine and joy will fill the air


Published by Brigitte af Transmorvica

interests include blogging personal improvement chromotherapy root work and herbal remedies shadow work talking about my past to heal and help others mental illness mental wellness pain spirituality working with our ancestors spell tutorials fashion makeup family dynamics healthy boundries discovering ones own inner beauty homelessness addiction recovery childhood wounds attatchment styles self care creative block art happiness inspiration hope depression movies music traumatic brain injury Joker and Harley Quinn love bipolar borderline coping strategies complex ptsd self harm stuffies pets little space quarentine books relationships ego

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