She
She was the sound of glass shattering—the sharp ringing in your ears. The perpetual motion of a spinning ballerina trapped inside a music box. The sad, tinny tune of La Vie en Rose.
She was the zigzag in your straight line. The absence in your direction. She was every turn you took when racing through a hedge maze, against the setting sun.
She was the tide that came in and out, like the breath of the wounded. She was the blood that flowed between heart and head.
She was the book that was not written. The sentence that was not scripted. She was the word you wished you could have said.
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Excerpts √
Poetry~~ If you are a dreamer, come in, If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer... If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in! Excerpts...
