A Slave to Her Soul

Courtesy: Pixabay
Courtesy: Pixabay
He was back again where he shouldn’t have been,
stepping into her story
to haunt her again.
He was witty and charming and oh so smart,
but the best part was he laughed
and he loved
and respected her heart.
She set her fingers to the screen to draw him forth,
but the pixels were lying again
those slaves to worth.
She’d pour wine and warm to his kindness,
writing to exhaustion,
to delusion
to mourning his presence.

©October 2019, Christina Anne Hawthorne

One Reply to “A Slave to Her Soul”

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