I, who have known you,
now only meet a stranger
who pulls layers over the child
trying her feet in shoes overlarge.

A bitter essence has been mixed in,
stirred and absorbed into her flesh.

Her eyes and touch hold
a sliver of ice, a dagger
poorly concealed — for me.

Author: redgladiola

Creative writer happily predisposed to flights of fancy. You can find my poetry and short prose at

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