Potential

She whispers a word
Into the air
And watches it freeze
Katink
It shatters to the ground in fragments of pearly white
Goblin teeth that
Bite at her ankles and make her
Back away

Her eyes sit before her
On a silver platter
Blinded

She is bound
With ropes of wintergreen
To the cold iron rods of the
Gate which guards
The graves

To protect the living from the dead
And the cold black iron
Burns her skin

And her skin peels away in strips of
Dewy red

She hangs her head
And breathes
The pain intrigues
She is caught
Bought

She hardly even fought
Her edges shimmer
In the void

She is evergreen
And melancholy
She is winter ice against your teeth

With the potential to devastate
She is holly and hemlock
Belladonna stained fingertips prying at iron locks until she bleeds

A wayward goddess
She grieves
Honeyed lips lie with
No remorse

Dark horse
She comes from behind
To bind you

So here she stays
Bound to
The in-between by
Iron
Salt

And

The dawn



- sarah[inprogress]