“silly girl.”

By Gracen Riggsbee

to be a soft shadow-

a glassy gold glint

for an instant, don't pretend 

take my twice-granted apology-

once built from ecology and honesty

will you, from the heavens, weep-

for me 

or stay paralyzed in reach 

between duty and word

you coward 

speak to me

“Crescent City.”

“You never call me anymore.”

Attention is futile for only memories we will be tomorrow-

Poison to my soul, without I lack not courage nor life, but to live without poison to swallow 

I will die at the hands of your lighter, and the reminiscent echos of my sorrow 

For when beckoned, I bath her in our tears tell, cleared of hubris hidden and burrowed

Now, I must ask you, judge, jury, and executioner, do the cards sing true

If I must pay, so shall you; this death took two, for the soul-binding contract was shattered by your poisoned arrow and Mulhouse laughter

“She died as the leaves fell.”

The monster beckons from uncovered wounds in the earth or hell

Through caverns in my heart to crevices in my soul

For but one glips of our life, my mind would be sold in any, effort of control

Leave me here as God’s storm brings arrows rain

Picture of prestige and plastic, new efforts, a fight to obtain

How Hypocritical of me to pray 

To understand secrets once carried by the wind

“Nothing good ever comes of this city.”

He, the boy I once loved, whispered once again, as if we were the same giddy kids

The sun still glows from within his eyes, pondering these people in which the title of friend our hearts once assigned