Threadbare Fragments

No broken doll
was she…

She who drifted in
reflective whimsy
while fragments of her visage
slipped to dance
beyond erudite hues,

into and through
sibylline shadows,

for through the
damaged cracks and
burned cauldrons
she wore a
sandalwood heart
which tore at its own
threaded disaster –

her love long since
casted offshore
and sprawled out
in the death
of the night…

yet farther still
into seeming obscurity,
and undetectable particulate
the fullness of her essence
and kindly caressed
the mouthes,
and ears
of those  whose wayward souls
hungered  and yearned
in want and need
for one love
ever eternal

©Murrsma and Christopher Rupley2016

( a collaboration with a dear friend

and one of my favorite wordsmiths )


6 thoughts on “Threadbare Fragments

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