The Moth Diaries, Poetry
Ad 2:
2005-11-14 18:34:17 (UTC)

Poem 95- Glass Doll

She is as transparant as a dew drop at midnight,
As pale and cold as the ice i thaw through.
There lies a girl drifting off to eternal sleep
One with no future but darkness,
And no ending but what is real right now.

She has long, thin fingers winding their way around
Whispy tendrils of finately long black hair,
Turning her nails, stained pink as the blush
Into the thick lock that blows with no breeze.

She is tall like the African Queen,
Beautiful like the grave and passionate as the air's breath,
Pale eyelashes laid onto a pale cheek,
Fluttering no more. Dreaming and remembering still,
Breaking the silence with a sigh no one can hear.

She is beyond my cry and above my whisper,
Deadly handsome like one calling me to the Devil.
The pounding of my heart, and the ache of my blood
All coming to an end tonight, living for her.

She is my Glass Doll

© Lucy Griffin Nov05

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