Like forgetting your headphones on a long journey,Like the holes between knitwear,Like water dripping between clenched fingers,Seeping like white t-shirts and bloodied wounds,This flower of red, blooms.And Memory forgets herself.

Wounded Le Fay

A fairy was I till my island went a flame. Who was I but my sinful half brother to blame. Pride engulfed in his golden crown As I grieve flushed in ember with my mourning gown. I leak from the orbs that see only death. Once I healed , I rejoiced, I loved. Vines , […]