Streaming Lines Poem by Heather Rhoden

Streaming Lines



With tears like the falling rain,
She grabs it,
But a thing she won't say
As she draws it across her skin.
She likes to see the
Criss crossing patterns again.
The unreadable and red
Are nothing
But streaming lines again.
Gleaming in the light,
Like the morning sun,
Down stream the lines,
Streaming across her wrists
As begins to fade
Into the black abyss.

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