Her face wobbles,

held up to a mirror

of rippling water.

The gilded edges glint

against glistening pools

of fear above her cheeks.


Her face was lit,

with a bouquet

of roses and coral.

Adorned with emerald

pearls piercing the fog

between them.


Her hands shiver,

shaking and stirring

mystery which smothers.

Skin pulled taut

a cocoon for bones

brittle and alert.


Her hands stretch,

knuckles cracked

for confidence.

Milky cream flesh

extends fearlessly

into this girl’s oblivion.


Her voice flees,

mimics a mouse,

small and squashed.

Escaping her oesophagus

into her stomach,

churning yet learning.


Her voice echoes

in the negative space,

friendless and foggy.

Consonants, vowels breathe

to populate this space

so only fog remains.



This poem was written for The Milk of Human Kindness project:



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