the world was never quite enough for you
you hope of a girl,
poem locked inside a flesh,
your smile tells more riddles
than a sphinx ever could.
in another life,
you were as old and wild as the bones of your world, daughter of mountains,
and you loved everything fiercely, tenderly, wholly. you loved,
and loss becomes you.
and your world burned.
your wishbone, like you, heralded nothing but the apocalypse.
hope is not a cure-all,
and blue is the saddest colour of them all.