A Critique on the Self-Portrait

 

I am alone now,

Seven years from the girl

I used to be.

 

The last clear identity

Known to my shaking heart

Half-cracked

 

In grief, remorsefully trying to hold

My ribcage together with dull,

Near-forgotten promises –

 

I will be kind, I will be pure –

A world before,

Here, anywhere.

 

 

 

 

Moon Song

 

It is colder still, the night’s blanket

Torn and worn-down

But not as deafening as day break,

Not as broken as the sun’s

Tired old light

Which burns and scalds.

Rather she is still and quiet.

That peaceful night seeks not to

Disturb but to resurrect.

As so, like Lazarus I rise

From the smothering of my bed, the confines

Of day and those who watch intently;

Pale eyes will not leave me alone.

I wander through the black streets,

This dome of silence treats me well,

I can breathe

Again. I dance with the shadows,

They see me clearly

Without the fiery pretence.

And I dance and twirl

And breathe my lungs full

Until I must return again

To that world of the living,

The sleeping,

Holding my breath.

 

 

 

 

Tahnee Flaws is a Sydney-based student and writer of fiction and poetry.

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