Her face wobbles,
held up to a mirror
of rippling water.
The gilded edges glint
against glistening pools
of fear above her cheeks.
Her face was lit,
with a bouquet
of roses and coral.
Adorned with emerald
pearls piercing the fog
between them.
Her hands shiver,
shaking and stirring
mystery which smothers.
Skin pulled taut
a cocoon for bones
brittle and alert.
Her hands stretch,
knuckles cracked
for confidence.
Milky cream flesh
extends fearlessly
into this girl’s oblivion.
Her voice flees,
mimics a mouse,
small and squashed.
Escaping her oesophagus
into her stomach,
churning yet learning.
Her voice echoes
in the negative space,
friendless and foggy.
Consonants, vowels breathe
to populate this space
so only fog remains.
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This poem was written for The Milk of Human Kindness project:
