a wide-eyed, grey-skinned siren
she moans the sorrows of the past
in her eerie, melodic falsetto
dragging the conch shells from the sea
pearls rest in her ears and under her tongue
one click click
falls from her lips
and she's diving beneath
the bottle-green waves
of her predecessors.
even the heavily sung beautiful
are unabashedly wretched.
a monster clawing for more skin
tearing up the world from the carpeting
she wants the humanity to show itself
to bleed itself dry
to envelop her entirely
and shed the
beady red eyes
slick black fur
crooked spine
and
raging appetite.
even the monstrous scrape
for an inkling of ourselves.
a prince on a high horse
shrugging off his dazzling overcoat
and reaching for his broadsword
sneering at the dragon's keeper
'tis his duty after all
but the witch's fingers curl in the air
spell cast, pallor aghast
prince yields to princess
bones and features soften
heavy breasts bloom
thin-lipped smile turns lush
but her eyes do not rage
they only leak
thanks.
even princes may wish
for their stories to change.
the heroine is
not always the
golden and beautiful
slayer of dragons
we sing and urge
them to be.
the truest heroines
reflect
our
blackest
light.
YOU ARE READING
little blue flowers
PoetryA collection of original poetry by Ella Petrichor. Highest Rank: #152 in Poetry (6/14/18) **COMPLETED** ::Excerpt:: "betrayal along the seams" A melancholic pallor lining her face She stood in the doorway Beating the shit out of that old rug As thou...
