— See there- my Molly, in death- so white Coming clothed in flowers, entering the night. My fate, through her eyes, is being foretold My dreams, my wounds, my joys she holds. Spirits, unpolished, stand back in aghast, Molly, my Molly, has acknowledged the past. “It’s not what I wanted! Not what I assumed!” And…
Tag: poem
I thought I was holding on to this ONE life I knew. #journal
I thought I was holding on to this ONE life I knew. My heart feeling the weight of having died a thousand deaths. I thought I was the tree, whose roots dug so deep, So deep that it was surely invincible. I thought I was the tree that houses the egg, the chick. Providing a…