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A Cup of Tea Went Cold

By Daniela Lilly

Mouth wide open, unmoving, unclosed,
A hollow cave for brittle promises
Left for dead.
Fragile, as the last tear
That brought peace, unwanted.

(And) With her last breath,
A cup of tea went cold.
Raw golden silk stained red,
A prayer book left to corrode
In the drawer of her left nightstand.

The tide went calm and quiet
As her whispers became a sigh.
Her bones, once bars of iron
Now broken shelves
left to gather dust.

Surrender, unasked for, unbidden,
Sunken eyelids, kissed by fading echoes
That once inhabited
A name, her name,
Forgotten, unfinished.

Daniela Lilly is a starting writer and college student who writes from a small town in Western Maine. She recently moved from her Marbella, Spain, in hopes to traverse across the lexical richness of the English language while on a self-discovery journey through words and poetry.


Archive, The River

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