She had
curly brown hair.
She had
a dream.
She was
beautiful.
She had
a long name.
She was
my life.
She needled me
like a knife– maybe sharper.
She had
occupied my days, just for a little while.
She had
a cold heart–
she was a cold hearted slayer.
She was
my role model.
She was
my little seed of hope.
She had
left me.
And I,
was done.
YOU ARE READING
Mellifluous Murmurs
Poetry❁ Freedom is allowing the crisp air to guide you through this forest we can call society. ❁
