Laid to waste
as weeds,
the armfuls of flowers
she carries scent her
like the honey wine
her life pours out.
She walks in
fields of lavender
and the shadows
taste like
knives and berries.
The juices stain
her fingers.
Laid to waste
as weeds,
the armfuls of flowers
she carries scent her
like the honey wine
her life pours out.
She walks in
fields of lavender
and the shadows
taste like
knives and berries.
The juices stain
her fingers.