And her soul was like porcelain floor on a cold winter night
frigid to the touch but value and beauty still rested in it's core
day by day she wilted away only to be repetitively ignored,
her heart became vulnerable as a rose bush robbed of it's thorns
she lost herself in the midst and began to mourn feeling oh so torn
black clothes soon became her character heavy metal on replay.
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Poems Upon Poems
Poetry"As she stopped to catch her breath, She looked back only to realize that He was no longer holding her hand Now she must walk in the dark alone." #48 12/29/15
