TheFeatheredSleep

tumblr_mdy9bb80h91rje7aio7_500The dress

you made her wear

all the jeunesse dorée years of despair

no longer fit

too tight

the seams ripped

apart

and birds flew out

like panthers

dark against light

her wrists with their side ways cuts

her shorn hope

awash with the raw salt of relief

she could breathe

she could breathe

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