Tuesday 11 March 2014

Left Overs

A writer's delusional wave of love
Gave birth to a page
And left her by the wayside
For destiny to write what it will on her
Blot or run dry as it may please.

The crisp white page
Now an aging patchy fragment
Still stares blankly at all who try to read her
Having resisted the lines of fate on her body
She lies bleached and starched
As she was born, she remains.


  1. how easily you treated something inanimate as alive. and how easily you gave it life. :)

  2. pretty nice blog, following :)