burgundy nights

Photo by Anni Roenkae on Pexels.com
wording wondrous wreckage
imagining feasts of rhyme
and lusting after 
verse-full fancy

ty p i ng  
              t
               h
                 e 
                 
                   e
                  n
                 n
               u 
          i 

    a            w         a           y

through burgundy
written
stanzas

as 
     the 
           drama 
                         Queen 
                                     she
                       wasn’t
          meant
     to
be
   .
      .
         .
          y e t — s h e ' d   b  e  c  o  m  e
       .
    .
 .
       and
 then
   she closed
              her eyes

                 p
                  r
                  e
                  t
                e 
             n
           d
         i
      n
       g

   n o t h i n g

  h  a  d   

 e   v   e  r

h     a     p      p     e     n     e     d

pink dream

Photo by Evie Shaffer on Pexels.com
she wears 
a pink dress
to hide
her petulant 
d a r k n e s s

turbulently staring
as if she’d been living
the dream and was now
anxiously grasping for
b r e a t h

when she finds out
about reality
she starts
walking the walk—
those platform
s h o e s

the ones that
so very 
silently
hurt her 
slim 
a n k l e s

towering
over his thoughts,
pink-stained,
so very
badly 
e n c l o s e d

In the yet to be
unmasked
confines 
of his
i m a g i n a t i o n