December 16, 2024
This...this is loneliness. It's when every sound blooms in agony. The cold seeps through the gaps and I vividly taste my heartbeat like a marred corpse. I question my skin and my mind shivers. I fear no one but myself.
Yours even as I fear to be
***
Maiden
She weaves with silken thread
Stolen from a pretty worm
Beats each string violently
And weaves a thick blanket
To warm her cold home
She knits with fluffy wool
Torn from a poor sheep
Winds each wool wretchely
And designs a warm robe
To gift her poor home
She tailors with her tears
Snatched from her thatched joy
Stabs each tear lividly
And stitches a loving home
To shelter her dear blood
She cooks with her soul
Plundered from her dreams
Crushes each piece tenderly
And brews a soothing soup
To feed her growing blood
L
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