X Marks the Spot

Marie Allred
Sep 2, 2018 · 1 min read

My cable knit sweater sleeves mask my history,

My body a map of places I've been and will be.

My mind a haven where wild things go,

My heart an uproarious sea.

My hips, a siren-like call to flee

before the x-marks-the-spot is seen.

My lips, a lingering warning to all

That there is no treasure in me.

Marie Allred

Written by

Creator of The Art of Madness blog | Advocate for mental illness | Writer, poet, blogger and friend ✍️

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