Of Wordless Women...

There, overwhelmed, the morning lay

Yet to be out of her lover's arms;

Her warmth left frozen, blue and black.

The winter dismantling her soul,

Breath by breath. Vein to vein,

Ran the chills that her lover brought.

Succumbed to her myriad heartaches,

She felt the mist creep into cracks.

He, her armoured night, a yawning abyss,

With many faces concealed under hoods,

Gnawed at her with his illusion-ed needs—

Her acceptance, a sauce to flavour with.

There she lay, for she no more cared,

If her tomorrow was worth waiting for.

Buried in her was a part of the night,

A footprint left by another deserter.