waterhouse j.waterhouse

she was the portrait of tragedy
grey eyes brimming with tears on the
cusp
of falling down her cheeks
brown hair
once her crowning glory
now forgotten
bedraggled and unwashed
the glimmer of hope that
she kindled deep within herself
was the somewhat shaken knowledge
that this wasn’t the first time
she wore that silken cloak of sadness
but, o, she wore it so well
it became her

ceg 4/9/2020

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