the pearls on the frame dulled in the evening light
wiping the edge with her fingertip,
she flicked the particles
and they danced as they fell.
swirling and falling like she used to
in that dress she bought
a pretty penny
that’s what it cost.
stuck in the snow globe house
as fragile as the glass that held the frame
slowly going insane
ripping at the walls
like the crazy woman in that short story.
what was it called?
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Reblogged this on kdwilsonauthorblog.
Thank you for reblogging this! š
Sigh…
( really fantastic piece)
Aw thank you so much. You’re so kind.
Very nice, Lily. Be well, friend.
Thank you Brigitte! You too! I hope you’re well.