“…and the concrete burned through her soles.” ~F. Higley

Resettling into her island step, a flush of red sweeping upwards towards a fixed gaze.  Her past life is nothing more than fleeting.  Revisiting events worth remembering and others never to be forgotten.

fresh crop,
ripe for picking.
young flesh infiltrated.
violence masked in love to quiet
an aching heart whose soul
can’t understand,
why her.
c. 2016

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