Image Source: Unsplash- Dillon T.
The water hurts my stomach
breathing in the smoke rings
Ophelia left behind
when the Willow tree snapped,
when the boughs could no longer take
her weeping every day,
when the bends of tissue scorched ribs
was too much for it to take,
when they decided to sacrifice her
with the silence of the break.
Canvas footsteps haunting her shadows,
I am jumping through hoops,
dreaming of sparrows,
scarred from all of my wants
and all I never had.
Listen
I hear time ticking in its cradle
feel it purr like a cat on my lap
as I inscribe her name to the stars above
etching them into grains of sand.
How temporary life is
when passion snags you by the ankles,
the sea waves frothing at the mouth
greedy to bite you
to sip on your flavour
then spit you back out and
sweep you into a tsunami of passion –
the blind leading the blind
following blanched white moths
into an unknown light
to drag you screaming into its tides
and leave nothing –
not even your name
behind
This was written by our contributing writer, Aimee Donnell.
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