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Menses and Mornings After

Poetry By: MissFawn
Gay and lesbian



The morning after my last intimacy with my first love, I woke to find myself bleeding through her sheets. I haven't bled again since that last Sunday in April. I had a dream about it once and looked it up in a dream dictionary. It said that menstrual blood is symbolic of feminine creativity. Very appropriate indeed.


Submitted:Oct 30, 2008    Reads: 485    Comments: 3    Likes: 2   


The blood did start to flow the day I left you

Like a wound reopened,

Peach split in half,

Core removed,

Gored on your behalf.

I couldn't let you touch me then,

No matter what I wanted;

Your lips tasted of words unspoken,

Yet fear left my love daunted.

And when the blood ran dry

It never came back,

Though I did keep track,

Of its absence over the summer long.

What am I to do?

The poems I've written lately are few

I'm lost without my muse.

And my virgin's blood is left

Recorded on your sheets,

It's now yours to keep

For my womb is fast asleep.

No tragic ballads,

Yearning sonnets,

Or lyrical odes

Can be born.

I'm as dry as baked earth

And my insides are all torn.

Yet I wonder if I ran away

And sailed across the sea

To tumble in your arms

As we were wont to be,

Would fertility reblossom

And seep out from our core

Or sprout out from our reed-like throats

And let our music pour

In a language of song

Only we could comprehend

As we try to end

This self-destructive trend?

For our dreams cannot take seed

Without the light they need,

And like my pen run dry of ink

Without you I can't bleed.





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