Portrait III
in the abandoned garden, she waits,
cold marble lips,
feet melding with the block of stone
that gives her the semblance of life,
heart that has never beat buried deep.
Tag: poetry
Benediction
She walks on wounded feet, carries white roses to the willow by the pond on the hill: three roses, the number of those…
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Breathless
On the nights when God is silent, she curls up against the dark, her breath a thorn embedded in her throat. At last, all the…
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