Gentled, to be still
and closer every day
to death.
I am present.
I am healing,
mending wounds.
Blood still trails
from my soul
where it hung
from her wrist
like jewelry.
Her smile hides
so many lies.

Categories: Art, Poetry, UncategorizedTags: c.eve, ceve, dark poetry, eve, of eve, ofeve, personal, poem, poems, poetry, shadow of eve, shadowofeve, shadowofeve.com, the first eve, thefirsteve, writing