Swallowing laments, coughing
up stained glass, her voice is
lost in the shattering barks
rending the silence in twain
Vitric dust settles in layers of
carmine remorse over bare feet
and choices wanting; painted
into a corner, and into oblivion
Ocular leadlights with cames of
tear, a cranberry gloss no longer
rose, reflecting life, her tormentor;
rolling eyes, leading to salvation
Her back against the wall, she
vanishes into the pale embrace of
waiting white, leaving behind only
footfall islands in a crystal sea
art: anesthesia by Peterio
Cool
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Thanks
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Wow! Love the imagery. The words flow together painting a picture. đź’–
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Thank you, Jay-lyn
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Really evocative.
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Thanks, Kristian
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