She pricked her finger on the spindle of your thorns,
fell prisoner to your irascible temper and lying eyes,
the jewel in your own vainglorious crown,
locked up behind the rage of daunting nights
She felt you reach out for her to hold your mad hands
as if to save her from this soul numbing ache,
but there was no hope for resurrection,
no rescue from the shadows of an inevitable fate
She is a darkling left bereft with no more goodbyes,
left drowning in your poisoned petals of madness and spite
words by Ashley Jane©️
art by Glam Beckett