The FightA Poem by Meaghan RhymerFeverish fingers clawing through the layers of skin like margarine - Wrestling open all the ligament locks. My thumbs are skeleton keys picking rusty cockles of the pulsing, veiny fist, rattling in a cage. A cough sputters somewhere, choking down bibles. A panicked sweat - a road map to your infidelities as they settle in crows feet. Talons scratch your pupils, until the pulp tears away and tree scars blossom into thorns. Meaghan Rhymer © 2017 Meaghan RhymerReviews
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Added on November 12, 2017Last Updated on November 12, 2017 AuthorMeaghan RhymerNHAboutWriter. Singer. Wine lover. Obsessed with the obscure. An eccentric mind meld of caffeine and eggs benedict served to wandering, lost spirits. more..Writing
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