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december eighth

by Ava Blu


she eats the roses atop Mary’s grave
the petals catch in her hair
she falls, spilling them onto the gravel
she is on her knees digging for more to taste
but her soul will assume this is waste and never feel full.



12/08/2008

Author's Note:


to remember, she must eat the things someone else loved.

Posted on 12/08/2008
Copyright © 2022 Ava Blu

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 12/08/08 at 08:43 PM

Really nice Jeanna. I love the turn around of perception. We really do understand so little about how it bridges the gap from outside to inside. Well done m'lady.

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