In circular fashion of royal’s gold smashed in, is the loss of a girl’s hair And it’s held on a string, attached to a ring that couldn’t fit on the girl’s hand
By Sofia Daveiga7 months ago in Poets
If I speak, when I had not spoke, were spoken words like a spider Through which I weaved a web Intricate with desire Daunted, was I unafraid of a plague
They look through me In and around me Of my curved bodice - they admire A plain and simple chalice that bends in its mold