And that there is the
trapeze woman,
hurtling toward faux destiny;
Fault lines perched upon her lashes
downcast and flattened genetically.
An arm and she is swung,
the other grasping sheer veils
that reveal cruelly, vindictively, the
horrors of her future.
The past, it will not have her,
the present populated with too many
red couches;
Would you live in a moment you had to
share with crimson suede?
Mid-air tastes salty-sweet, it
crumbles around the edges
and when she streams down they
gasp
Oh look! No
safety
net.
Her smile is upside down, and wide,
the skull late autumn’s bloom,
A lifetime of couches is
supplied,
painted a bloody
red.
Wisdom Wears Neon Pyjamas 
Oh.My.
I keep coming back to read this, then struggle to leave some semblance of a comment. Rinse, repeat.
*Applauds wildly, then goes back to read post*
Amazing! OJ, your words swing through the air with her.
Vidya: Some reaction, that. 🙂
wordjunkie: Don’t blame you, girl. Oftentimes, even I don’t know how to respond to my posts.
dipali: What a lovely way of putting it. 🙂
nice
Applause!
wow woww wowww. Am so stunned. It’s like seeing flashes of red before my eyes. It’s actually like looking at a painting. It’s like…It’s so beautiful and vivid, I can hardly express how I feel. (Again) It’s so beautiful, it must be read over and over. Are you planning to publish a book of your poems?
Just a question: Why is it called ‘Bugbears of the Heart’?
CrazyDiamond: Thanks.
Anindita: 😀 Really?
Pri: No, hon. But thanks for thinking I’m worthy of being in a book. About your question: your guess is as good as mine. 🙂