Tepid, the night air spun pure silk against her skin.
Enveloping misery’s scars, effortlessly hiding her sins.
And though whispers ever silent, deafen the night.
No one bears witness to the lost, lonely fight.
Vanity often sculpted, though rare to the naked eye;
It never really matters but she’ll continue to try.
Dispelled into nothing, no one utters her name.
No one realizes she’s gone, life remains the same.
Was it worth it? Her anguish, the pain and grief?
Did the bleeding of her veins offer a courteous relief?
Will anyone ever notice she left with a part of you?
No, but the phoenix turns to flames, starting anew.
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Reduced to ashes and reborn anew to live again. This is such a lovely write. Thank you for sharing.
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This is lovely, ladies... The first stanza is my favourite, and the background fits so perfectly with your words. Excellent work, and I look forward to reading more poetry by both of you.
In love and light,
Laura x
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nm
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Interesting write...I liked this..."Was it worth it? Her anguish, the pain and grief?
Did the bleeding of her veins offer a courteous relief?" Thought provoking.
Nevadapoet
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beautiful.. you two weaved something so wonderfully crafted.. I loved the flow of this and the imagery as well was vivid and detailed.. You two blended so seamlessly.. I am amazed.. Thank you very much for sharing this with us!
Angel
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Wow
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is this talking about a personification of one's self or the mythology of creature who lives as a fire elemental yet is reborn everytime it dies? Interesting perceptions!
Keep penning on one stroke at a time!
Bill
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