Photo by Mitchell Luo on Unsplash It’s amazing, the power in a word sticks and stones break my bones, words will only kill…
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Some days, her heart is red and it breaks open
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Hallowed silence surrounds her: fallen stars flickering amid mist-frosted grass and autumn leaves in their myriad faded hues, bruised petals and baubles strewn…
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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.
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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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 questions spiral downinto…
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