She lies awake
in her field of suffering
remembering past mistakes.
In her bed of mourning,
the tears cascade;
the fears escape.
Once comforted by solitude
she tries to displace all,
to no avail.
She reaches out to him
and that feral feeling,
willing him to consent;
to take her out-stretched hand.
A whisper of the shadows
passes between
Now
and
Then.
Her hand recedes.
That which is no longer hers
tears a path inside
and
rips apart the scars
that could never fully heal.
Will she bleed for it?
Knowing the torture
of the passion to relieve,
she still can't turn away.
She was his hope.
He- her salvation.
But, mistakes come with comfort.














Critiques
Thank you for your Critique
You are not logged in.