Inked
A flood of black ink deluged the page
covered it all in bitter blind rage
all her words she obliterated, from her mind she could not
they danced in crazed circles, mocking her lot.
***
As the dim light of the moon spotlighted her face
a reflection of truth on the mirror she could trace,
a silent epiphany, a quelling calm to her storm
for a love unrequited she could no longer mourn.
***
She took the page between her fingers felt the ink still wet
squeezed it hard in her fist with a passion not met
killing her love, killing her dream, killing her sin,
inked fingers on page, the death of a twin.
by Barb Nixon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem