Wounded

Wounded

The waning moon tugs on a heart
laden heavily already with grief.
She descends further,
hollow eyes skeptically regarding
all that remains.

But you will never know
the weight she carries
a suffocating stone pressing
down on her chest, unrelenting.

Softly, incantations are uttered
repeated words like a string of pearls
prove a weak catharsis
unable to fell a persistent nemesis.

She’ll search in vain
for a release she’ll never know
and devour you with hunger
like a beggar on the street
while wounded you will wonder
of the secrets that she keeps.

10/11/22