And sometimes all she wants to do is lie down until the sun one day rises from the west and the north star isn't the brightest object in the night sky and the eagle's piercing shriek doesn't penetrate the wind above the trees.
And sometimes when she stands in front of the mirror and she peers into darkness though light flows from the halo that surrounds her and her wings melt to her back and no one knows who she is or the things that she has done.
And sometimes when she hears the music from her past and it doesn't take her back to that time when life was sweeter and everything seemed possible and she once had possibilities to look forward to because she didn't know then what she knows now.
And sometimes when she cries the tears from a thousand years and the puddle formed below her doesn't swallow her up and drown her entirely and someone, anyone comes by and pulls her to safety by one solitary word and she is released from her self imposed dolor.
Just. One. Time.
YOU ARE READING
Visions of Ultraviolet
PoetryA glimpse into my mind and soul. Sometimes dark, sometimes light. Various pieces of prose written in a variety of forms throughout my lifetime in no particular orderly fashion or timeline. I write them on the spot, take days or find them as I unpack...
