The Crucible Chamber

A poem

https://www.pexels.com/photo/photography-of-moon-behind-clouds-774681/

My footprints disappearing beneath weary bed of green. The plump moon hiding behind a cigarette veil. Red rose between shaky fingers succumbs with bending spine browning, wrinkling from within. Petals stolen by desolate wind falling with ash until forgotten. And I would go to you but this barren night mocks the crucible chamber, my broken womb

The Junction

The Junction is a digital crossroads devoted to stories, culture, and ideas. Our interests are legion.

Christina Ward 🌼

Written by

:::i paint with words:::

The Junction

The Junction is a digital crossroads devoted to stories, culture, and ideas. Our interests are legion.