Pomegranate Seeds at Modnight

XIV

Her W R I S T S,

once stained crimson and soaked in the tears provoked by the day's O V E R
T H I N K I N G and attempts,
now have scars that only bring up the reality behind each indent.

Her A R M S,

once empty and only embraced by herself as she attempted to hold the broken pieces of her heart and mind while S I L E N T L Y begging that her sobs would not wake those near and dear to her heart.
Now have one's warm embrace and comforting words to quiet the demons that lurk in the darkness.

Her L I P S,

once kissed by a faint memory of someone who broke her heart, kissed by a nightmare of someone who T O R M E N T E D her life; a bottom lip chewed on during weak attempts of holding back the words clawing up her throat begging for the world to hear them.
Now have been kissed by a true love, one she holds near and dear to her heart and swears to never let go of.

Her M I N D,

once a ravaged battlefield with bullets carrying the cold betrayal of old friends in their wake S O A R I NG across a starry night sky, with the dying cries of senile versions of her once bubbly, childish self echoing into the abyss.
Now a snowy flag slices across the sky, an irony scent still lurking on the stained battlefield of blooming roses.