She’s hard to read underneath

the somber December skies.

She’ll leave you with a kiss on the cheek,

but no hand to save you

from the depths of her horrendous subconscious

you will soon find yourself drowning in,

hopelessly lost amongst the scars of faded memories

that once painted her life golden.

She’s afraid;

afraid of the inability to hold, to touch, and intertwine

her fingers in something that can only be felt; love.

Her eyes draw you in,

there are a many of untold truths and

stories beneath them that her tongue can no longer verbalize.

But the cracks in her heart do not outweigh

your desire to immerse your soul into hers,

only to become one being of sheer bliss,

with intentions of prosperity.

Serendipity cannot stop her from fleeing,

you are unfortunately too late to attempt

to engrave your happiness into her bones,

the bones which have been cursed by death.


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