I gave my husband bruises to
plaster me with.
Bare boned, I have pleaded with
double edged devils
to spare me from
fingers engulfed in flame.
But, the fire comes. Twisting
my insides out, wringing
leftover drops
of love
out,
to drip down drains,
to suffocate.
Permeation takes place. Fresh
becomes stale,
gross.
Like wedding cake.
Like a bride’s bouquet.
Like stiff shoulders daring a
husband to come close.
maggiemaeijustsaythis 
Some really strong poems posted today Maggie! I love the last couplet here about the stiff shoulders. Very visual image.
Thanks HollyAnne 🙂 I had a week without internet so…I definitely had them kept. lol thanks for reading!! 🙂
Oh, ‘double edged devils…’
This Maggie hit me very close to where I used to live. I am catching up and this was the first of several. I think I will stop here for a bit.
Elegant.
Powerful.