The Poetry & Prose of Annabelle Ravenshade
Posted: Wed Dec 21, 2022 2:43 pm
[I imagine the following to be scattered across the desk of her home in Guldorand, stained with inkblots and frustration.]
I forget.
Pain.
My hand shakes.
A thousand thoughts, yet none.
Instinct like an animal, I lose myself.
I am glad.
Let her go.
I yield her to you, cast of my woe like a snake.
I am yours, I am nothing.
I lash out, and your return stains my cheek with crimson.
I don't care. I don't think.
You are robbed of your victory, for in this moment, all my misfortunes are gone.
We are broken, yet in this moment, whole.
I cry out, yet no tears come.
Only you.
I forget.
Pain.
My hand shakes.
A thousand thoughts, yet none.
Instinct like an animal, I lose myself.
I am glad.
Let her go.
I yield her to you, cast of my woe like a snake.
I am yours, I am nothing.
I lash out, and your return stains my cheek with crimson.
I don't care. I don't think.
You are robbed of your victory, for in this moment, all my misfortunes are gone.
We are broken, yet in this moment, whole.
I cry out, yet no tears come.
Only you.