Wounds Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

Wounds



your bosom of iron sea
nothing touches me like you
your wealth of joy
your teasing smile
wisdom has gentle lips

delicate hands touch the past
for the past is dangerous
you go there with closure
blessed are the peace makers
you take it slow

thank you for not opening wounds

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Joseph Narusiewicz

Joseph Narusiewicz

So St Paul, Minnesota
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