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Superficial,
living the breadth,
of, newcomer’s struggles,
your future’s, fickle,
skinning, the depth,
of, summer puddles.

Aella, your whirlwind, wraps your hair,
each lock, encircles, to make a noose,
your gallows, stand high, above, your flare,
we swing, like, pendulums, excused.

If, it’s eminence, you seek,
beware, of, rosy, passing cheeks,
their emptiness, will, fill, you whole,
like, birdsong, without a beak.

Peripheral,
the outliers, omit the truth,
they’d rather, speak, of stats,
robes, of kingly purple,
a smacked mouth, so uncouth,
bites a tongue, until, it snaps.

Aella’s lipstick, on her ex, marks his gob,
the treasure, planted, she leaves her foal,
neigh-saying tears, themselves, do, sob,
as, her spirit, moves onto another soul.

When, it’s tragedy, you find,
don’t blame fate, for, a lode unkind,
your hibernation, outlasts, what you bear,
and, honeycomb promises, sting and bind.

© poormansdreams

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