Death Knows Her Name
A knife’s alluring glint,
over folds of iridescent fabric,
whispers her name enticingly.
But the children,
little feet
on cobblestoned paths.
Her love,
endearing acerbity and
unfurled arms.
Her home,
velvet carpets and
arching ceilings.
Not today.
Not yet.
A dark glass bottle,
sloshing liquid,
fingers reaching outward.
Her home is gone,
reduced to antiquated ruins.
But the children,
frightened faces huddling close.
And her love,
depending on her resilience.
Not today.
Not yet.
An open window,
one final breath waiting below.
The children’s fading tears,
her love’s paramount promise,
vanishing in the dark.
It’s today.
I’ll wait no longer.

Natalie Mix is a junior, and this is her third year as a member of The Central Trend. This year, she has ever-evolving dreams for whatever version of a...
If you want a picture to show with your comment, go get a gravatar.