Photo by petr sidorov on Unsplash
Her hands, like talons
I’m torn, like Red Sea, ripe blue
Milk eyes sink my tears
About the Creator
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More stories from Melissa Ingoldsby and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Missing Ingredient
The first time I saw her, she was wearing a velvety, red ribbon in her hair. She carried a small leather backpack everywhere. She searched the forest by turning stones, checking beneath shrubs, listening to the wind as if it might carry an answer.
By Imola Tóth7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Awesome!!!