Love’s True Arrow

Edvard Munch – Puberty (1895)

Pristine and christened
for the first awakening

but it was not the only

to be flayed by hunger’s portent
cries; savage and sweet

humming beneath
the exquisite betrayal of flesh

where a scarlet drop
marked that dirty spot

Was this what they called possession
Or was it just a brutal forsaking?

As Misery took flight, shutting itself in
a corner of
that tiny heart of hers

then she knew –

that something irrevocably dear
had been partaken of

(I was inspired by a poem from a fellow poet and writing this cured my insomnia, lol)

© Zelda Reville


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