emerald

She is either beautiful
          or eating a pear.
She has eyes that can look through
a mirror and see time passing,
a story written in lines.

It’s not true
          that no two are alike.
Washing the green off her, she says,
“It was only blue after all.”

One day, she knows, the walls
will come down
      and she,
she will hear the truth
of the bricks, broken at her feet.

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About ky

Poet. Photographer. Writer. Goddess. View all posts by ky

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