Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2010
Paint peels off walls as
Cracks grew from the crumbling
Drywall, the window sill rotten.

Home.

Amelia sat at the edge
of her new marriage bed
and soaked in her arrangement.

Looking into the spotted mirror,
Persephone wipes her eyes too.

At the edge, she's slumped.
Chin resting on her sore wrist,
As she's gazing out the window, listening
to the crisp October air dance
upon the window panes.

Her husband, a bear with
a piercing gaze, would soon
be clouded in a winter slumber.

It would be then Amelia could
Dance in the white forest.
Written by
Aniscia Mosholder
844
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems