She looks at me through lidded eyes
as she crouches underneath my bed
her irises, like flashlights pierce through me
and see everything I dread.
//
Days and days pass by
bringing with the clear skies
and early dawns.
With baited breath I wait
till eaves wither and are washed away.
Torrential storms from autumn's bay.
//
Feverish in my delusions
I grasp at webs and dust.
They cling to my dry hands
as I try to rub them away.
My hair becomes a tangled mess
as I try to make myself presentable
but I know deep inside
that I've no worth.
I lament.
//
Fingers wrapped in gloves of silk
ever try to grasp frayed ends
(reaching, reaching)
But whispers and murmurs
blow out the wick
and twists her until she bends.
About the Creator
Verity Greene
I love writing dark fantasy/ imagery poetry.
instagram.com/flawed.changeling
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