I used to mill pain
to fine flour, call it love;
kneaded and risen to bitter bread
cutting my tongue,
but nothing can live on a diet that simple,
that sharp, forever.
Succinct – I love it
This a very astute description of a human experience. It took me right back to the early years and what I mistook for love. Ground glass in to flour to make a bitter loaf. Yes. It cut my tongue. Beautiful.
Thank you, Alice. Some lessons are learned the hard way–at least by me 😉
This one took me quite a number of go-rounds.;-)
Bitter and cutting imagery, Susan. Beautifully done.
Thanks, Celestine. Hard lessons.
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