06/08/2013 at 18:37 (Poetry, Writing) (, , , , , , , , )

Flowers on my windowsill

Pale and lifeless, cut

And steeped in old water

Their heads shun the light.

The scent of the lilies

Streaks my mind, lost

As it is in memories

With no hope of return.

This bed, my soft grave,

White as the skin

Which papers my bones,

Holds a memory alone.

 photo 082c88ef-5788-48d5-b37d-c34729a3adfe_zpse214ceea.jpg



  1. Jessica West said,

    Vivid imagery, this piece reaches past the senses to touch the soul.

    • celenagaia33 said,

      Thank you, dear friend. I wrote this last year when in a particularly bad place. Lucky for me, I woke up.

      • Jessica West said,

        Lucky for the world, it would be a much darker place without people like us to hold the shadows at bay and keep them occupied. đŸ˜‰

      • celenagaia33 said,

        Good shout, that đŸ˜‰ We take the darkness inside and annul it with our own wicked ways

  2. Jessica West said,

    haha… yes!

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