Streams

-

When she was an innocent girl,
there were never quick dashes of
salt and vinegar mixed within her
speech- guilt had never possessed
those muscles.

When she was an innocent girl,
there was no thought of bridges,
70 mph vehicles finding bone
and that chaos bleeding.

But do you really see
these fractured lips crack
even more?
butterscotch skin that used to
flit fair wings, and her
brokenness
solicited...caught between
corpses and crows;

her eyes cannot hide
the smudged dreams,
nor the lace which crawls
up her wrists while she does

nothing

but shiver.

-/

Written December 8, 2012 at 10:45 pm.