between her being and her soul.
her heart has been
outgrown, split. splintered.
trace the hollow of a thought,
ripple the air
time cracks. dried. shadowed.
Lime plaster, a pale chalk pink
dusts her feet. Still.
I wrote this poem in a homage to the way Bowie wrote at times...I cut it up and rearranged the lines ( he sometimes wrote his lyrics like this)...don't ask me what it means usually I have no clue! The others are here.