pieces

pieces 

she dances a slow dance
with death, barefoot, draped
in purple, to music only she hears,
whispers on wind tips, in and out
from the shadows, balancing
between dark and light, need
and want, pieces of herself
plucked from her core like
the leaves of autumn called
to sleep at the feet of their mother

she dances a slow dance
with death, slipping deeper,
deeper into the darkening
night, eyes fading, heart jaded,
breath growing shallow, voice
silenced to a whimper, donned
in purple darkened from tears
long shed from wells gone dry
praying for winter snow to gently
wrap her in silence, where blessed
sleep waits, that she might finally
rest…that she might find peace

~kat


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