ayakashi

Myanmar

ill-defined empress

June 5, 2020

FREE WRITING

9

soft she is, in her drapes of emerald silver and rubies
a crown—not of garnished gold and the like—no, a crown of aged leaves on a hundred yeared tree like her own nation
a crown that whispers for oldened sorcery that no longer exists, whispers a revolution that prolongs and ceases with each mortal/soul that leaves it
she wears herself like a queen, not a king—never a king—wears her burdens like the pins in her hair; numerous they may be, but she keeps each in her mind before she relieves them.

soft, she is—
but the unrefined earth that lies beneath her fingertips tremble at her touch

soft, she is—
but molten jewels harden with time and age, and so does she


soft, she is
she has always been soft[soft eyes, soft smiles, soft soft soft—]


soft, she may be—
but she has taken the word ‘monarch’ and made it her own, torn down all other meanings except one


soft, she remains to me—
but the world quivers at her name.




                                                                                                      h.s.

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  • June 5, 2020 - 11:49pm (Now Viewing)

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2 Comments
  • Paisley Blue

    this is amazing! I... i don't even know what to say! Wow, I am stunned! :0


    3 months ago
  • Anne Blackwood

    *jaw hits the floor*


    6 months ago