The remains of a saga unseen

The rough-hewn bits of her exhausted dreams are evident;
but what were they?
To be held?
To be left alone? To have things change?
She has tasted molten honey for a reason—
the scent of bigotry is enough to send chills down
anyone’s spine.
It would take time for cold grey to bleed in and delude us
into thinking otherwise;
her lips, still moist continue to defy departing springtime.




Photo credits: Alina Szapocznikow, ‘Undone,’ Pinterest

Day sixteen ~ In the Remains of this Month

Posted for Play It Again @ Real Toads

& Posted on Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub