She has no name.
Coffee skin, big curly hair and a face beautifully chiselled but culturally ambiguous.
The eyes though, tell the story.
Is it longing? Sadness? Wistful loss?
They shine. A suggestion of tears but with no guarantee, they look over the twilght street, lit only by moon.
Red liquid untouched, did she think it would help?
One candle threatens to extinguish, she should care but just lets it flicker. If it dies it dies.
She wonders who she is, what she is.
She once knew.
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Author:
Joesph Kwolski (
Offline) - Published: December 10th, 2024 07:07
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments2
An interesting and engaging writing
Nicely expressed
A interesting and well written piece, could be wrong, but i feel someone questioning what they used to be and why they are not know, enjoyed the read
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