She came in with eyes as opaque
as the horrors in her mind.
On her lips a taste of snowflake
turned to stinging seas of brine.
...
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bear the dark, good one, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.
I am deeply impressed with your images. My poems, in short, are nothing more; but for my agendas that run rampant. That 3rd stanza was fabulous.