Cuts

walking on the pale sandy beach
spotting treasures in the sparkling sun
enough to whisk away the pensive mind

submerging in such shimmer
daydreaming the clouds to be
a motion picture of happy memories

until the edge of a rock or
a broke shell
cutting underneath her foot

the clouds turn into a violent swirl
brown bleeding out into the muted sand
from a place of torment

empty drink bottles
a monster broken capillary face
wild eyes flaming
savage shaking of a slim form

empty promises
an innocent blood drained cheeks
fearful stare vacating
prey falling off an arrow

how many times those cuts
drove her to the dark shadow
ignoring the brightly shining sun

gossamer waves reflecting off the water
old blood fading away into the saline foam
like the broken shells
in mock dismay

Author: Cassa Bassa

🇦🇺🇨🇳 inquisitive, observant, witty, a thinker, was a misfit child 😊 View all posts by Cassa Bassa