Eyes of Recovery

How may I rid myself
of that incessant dripping noise? 
The darkened greyness dancing like corpse shadows
underneath the lightless globes of chocolate.
Crimson to tanning lips,
widowed arms empty but reaching,
a silhouette host
to the bidding creatures of a beckoning 
daughter of dawn.

The pebbles press into the back of this
crying angel as she runs her
wilted white fingers through blackened hair,
reaching for that contented young soul
which coated the thin lashes curled around 
those smiling orbs of blue and grey.


~ Pseudo Poems