Summer times

Some days smell like

Freedom.

I was with a bad (hu)man for

Far too long.

Often heated,

Bad habits, scarring and some

Evil-

Bloody mess...

Honest, my guts

torn asunder 

then more

Limbo, a sense of 

Death...

Dante,

One could say-

Then

In some particular way

the sun felt extra good today,

Felt my skin thirsting and gulping

every atom, warm and

Yum...

Like a perfectly ripe peach 

cannot be devoured without a

Smile.

Pure and True.

Each peach- the same and

Anew-

Even though, simplified

Into

As above, so it is

Below. 

To grow or die

this time around

the Sun. 

. 

Painting by William Mason Brown (1828-1898), 'Peaches on a White Plate' c. 1880 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Forest

 

Still the aftermath

Trees reach tall and wide, like We-

That is All-she wrote.

Painting by George Hayter (1792-1871), 'After the Storm' c. 1833 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.