A/N: Aug. 24, 2019. This was actually the first poem I wrote. I'm only just publishing it now because I was overly critical of my early writing and I felt especially attached to it. This poem remained nameless for almost a year until this moment. I hope you'll enjoy!
Ethereal
Her hair spun with unseen dexterity
Gleams dart through midnight wisps, alight.
Amber and azure
Interwoven with one another
Embroiled for her favour.
A shard falls from her cheek—
Breaking into a myriad
as if humiliated by its own subjugation.
YOU ARE READING
A Meaningless Collection
PoetryA collection of variously themed poems that I write mostly on my commute to class or when I can't find a reason to fall asleep.
