A messy bun that took more than a few tries to perfect is plopped atop a poets head while she taps her pen across the littered paper in her lap. Wisps of untrimmed bangs flutter above her face as she sighs at the fact that once again, shes somewhere amidst the fog of another nostologic muse. She shuffles through the pages of a journal that continues to cough his name, spellbound by the fact that the nectar of his hinges still linger within the margins, exposing the thirst she can never alleviate. Quietly, she sweeps off the bed and shuffles towards the window on her left, welcoming fresh air among a compost of heartache and detoxification. Pine cones bud like roses and the scent of evergreen wraps around her shoulders like he used to do... She closes her eyes and tries to erase the memories that are carved upon a tree outside her window, stained within a notebook and branded to her heart.
Posted on: Sat, 16 Aug 2014 19:30:29 +0000