Lesions
She had a crystal gazeand it burned,
reminding me of ice
and blue eyes
or perhaps
they were emerald
and I just forgot.
Lesions on a
Lost soul
I wrap the parcel,
scant possessions
of a life
that never
wanted to live.
Her eyes were green
but glass cuts
whatever its
shade or hue.
Poetry by Elle
Read 559 times
Written on 2008-06-14 at 14:35
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