tear-stricken hands retract
fingertips bestrewn with dust
dust that bears memories
cruelly contained between the walls
of a mahogany frame
which, behind the grime
was mercilessly polished
as though to say
that the echos of the past
the mere impressions
in the grand scheme
of this void that we call home
were never there in the first place
bloodshot eyes stare numbly
at the taunting ink
forever cast into the agonising quintessence
of somebody
who is simply harder to see than most
porcelain cheeks pull up
into a broken smile
ignoring the bitter signs
of her crippling affliction
that had slid down
from eyes that endlessly lamented
the demise of the once-seen sparkle
that resided in her soul
to desert lips
dried, along with the desire to exist
mirroring the trails of rain
that trickled, carefree
down the dusty windowpane
that she rested? by
externally, she rested
internally, she writhed
little by little
her soul seeped out
dripping from her face
splashing onto the glass cage
that oppressed a million memories
bordered by a mahogany wall
which she held
in a shaking hand
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glass slipper | poetry
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