Shoulder blades like angels’ wings,
Each rib visible, each deathly,
She stands alone, frozen:
A spectre under flickering hospital lights.
Her once-beautiful smile
Turns to a painful grimace,
Her musical laugh now
A dry croak in the dark.
And as painful beauty turns to beautiful pain,
An abandoned stomach gives in,
Unfed lungs refuse to fill,
And a weakened heartbeat ceases.
15 is too young to die.
- The air thickens with bird song | diffidence that faltered
- A “On Writing” Sonnet | The Bohemian Rock Star’s “Untitled Project”
- Some Questions From Facebook | The Tower of Babble
- Alliteration Apocalypse | Seasick For Thirty Days
- Slowly | lightning stones
- I’m grateful for the dark. | Life’s little mercies
- Ode from a Cult Member | rhythm’s nest
- Springtime in the City | The Jump
- Names I’ve Been Called | Men$aBlondEsq
- Question Time | Jake Reynolds