she is fire and snow. a homeless angel with wings of dust. through starless nights she wandered, a lost daughter of the pleiades; her screams disintegrated before it reached the sky. her voice died out into a silence unperturbed by dawn.
like a wave, she broke against the wind — into fragments, washed away by a devil's sigh — like ashes of summer scattering beneath a red sun, like dead petals of a tree.
YOU ARE READING
PETRICHOR
Poetrythis is the rain and the soil from which my dreams bloomed. 1.4 © 2019-20
