She wears her dark circles as a badge of pride,
A sign of valour, a decoration of the
highest sort.
As she covers blemishes,
Fills in her eyebrows,
She leaves her circles starkly standing
Out in her snow creamed complexion.
She thought they added interest, depth
To her kind, once energetic face,
And she wouldn't be wrong
If it weren't for her eyes.
Sunken, shadowed, mimicking the
Turmoil hidden right behind
Heavy lids.
She is a symbol, a perfect depiction
Of exactly not what she had wanted,
As her galaxy of blues dance waltzes with
Cold-flushed cheeks and eyelashes,
Brightened, bleached by the sun.
The sun that no longer shines in
Crystal-clear eyes, now clouded, troubled,
And tired.
So, so tired.
As her weighted lids grow darker and heavier,
Shining hair turning darker, dull,
But her circles still shine, newly polished
Dancing shoes.
Dancing into sleep.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight flashes
РазноеA collection of poems, short pieces of writing and the general muddlings from my brain. This is a small window into my mind- all of the twists and turns of the labyrinth that are my thoughts, a way to see both the light, happy paths and the darker...
