And with each letter stroke,
she becomes a larger myth.
How human can one remain
when strained recall is the last encounter?.
Repeat,
left foot.
She drew a square.
She drew a triangle.
She drew in sacred symbols.
Repeat.
Right foot,
carrying the fire with each step she took.
Coldness in the bones was always innate.
She danced and moved so fluidly,
fleeing from the struggled state
One,
two,
three.
Last words repeat.
She is in the wind.
She is the cellular memory of the unfathomable.
She is in the heart of tightened chests
that carry their feeble muscle daily.
YOU ARE READING
Drabble Dabble
PoetryBegan these drabbles at the beginning of 2016. No direct subject or point, just 100 words. Enjoy. Cover photo credit : Attirement of the Bride- Max Ernst
