On Possession

I said she was mine
and he was mine.
They were mine.
And I swallowed them whole,
cherishing the explosive flavor of control.

Then, He came,
and pulled them from my throat.
He told me they were His.
They were all His.

But he didn’t devour them.
What kind of revolution is this?

Strong Language

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Author: faithhealthandmusings

When life offers us so rich a bounty of inspiration, how can we help but to reflect in writing all that climbs into our hearts and takes up residence there?

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