The queen wears red

November 19, 2021 § Leave a comment

Soft-kissed and warm-turned,
the skin touched the fresh pillow.
The last bit of the cream applied,
the golden box thrown into the bin.
But not before one more deep breath
is taken from the now empty space
of vanity and youth obsession.

The queen lies now in bed
and wears red inside.
Her life is blue, her house is yellow,
her teeth are black, her weather cold,
her kingdom ancient, her hands weak.
But her face smells of roses,
of bergamot and citrus.
She closes her eyes and counts
her children, like others count sheep,
to fall asleep or die in their sleep.

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