Florica's vacant look
haunted by the spectres of doom,
occasionally bursting of wit.
Still wishing to be blinded
by that can't sleep love.
Not understanding all it was said
they assumed she was unhinged,
but neither of them care about.
Night sky lays in her half-closed mouth,
languidly merging with the ceaseless clattery sound.
Florica's glazed eyes,
her sore body rests now
in the miasmas of unconsciousness.
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC
Florica's vacant look
haunted by the spectres of doom,
occasionally bursting of wit.
Still wishing to be blinded
by that can't sleep love.
Not understanding all it was said
they assumed she was unhinged,
but neither of them care about.
Night sky lays in her half-closed mouth,
languidly merging with the ceaseless clattery sound.
Florica's glazed eyes,
her sore body rests now
in the miasmas of unconsciousness.
© Gwythyr 2017
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