her children are statues waiting to be birthed.
• to breathe, to walk, to live
• to hold someone's hand that is not their own, that is not familiar but will become
• they wait with starry eyes and tracking glances; some mistaken them to be duplicitous creatures of the night, but no -
• no, they are spells waiting to happen for magic runs through their veins. it is what they bleed
but granite statues remain forevermore and she is too idle to speak those ancient words of power to bring them to life. however, perhaps it is not only that she is lackadaisical but also because they are more beautiful than she; their skin smooth as porcelain, their virtues too pure to be true. she is afraid of something bigger and better than herself, and it is her ultimate downfall.
- AN END TO A NEVER-WAS [ALTERNATIVELY NAMED: - AND NEVER-WILL-BE - 7.11.16]
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PoetryLIKE THEM; the cunning, the strong, the rational, the sensual, the rash. POE19 [151016]
