Trapped

forget-me-not

Upon the stairway,
she sat quietly
scratching words in red ink

waiting for the moon
to paint waves of emotion;

these colors
that only a desperate brush
could carry to fruition .

Four white walls
are a method of torture
when winds cry sea scent
blowing magnolia promises
into white lace curtains

that have never seen the light
of day.

~

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