the return

she came home sun-tanned and smiling from her eyes,
red-rimmed with exhaustion
but sparking a new fire-light

she came home clever and leaner
startled by her own steel and her own weakness

startled by how much she missed him

she came home sewn-up with stars in her stitches
and unlit moons that offered new riches

she came home wanting, jaunty and restless
entirely too intent on courage to waste any time among the tame.

she came back, and he was at home with the taste of her name.

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Wordsalve

Let the words around be a salve, let them soothe
Every step an inky mess, contrived to free me
My heart bleeds. Syllables drop onto the page, the walls
And seep into eyelids, whispers and wounds.

I need them to live, to purify me
Foulness is flung from my hands as I speak
With a swirl of ink, and words, which are born
To die by my hand, thistled and thorned.