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Her Face Framed With the Debris of Us MAG
The world fell upon her head, it came
crashing down.
Her face framed with the debris of us;
we were all around her.
Covered in a blanket of gray-powdered
memory, filthy-hearted and dirty-kneed.
With shattered hope and dressed in black, the world bit her around the neck.
She was fighting her cursed downfall as it was stealing her last breath.
Limp, with life slowly draining, it showered gray-powdered debris of us.
The flakes kissed her skin and covered her loosely. We were all around her.
As we began to seep in, gray-powdered
debris filled her to the core.
Green and blue ran from the puncture wounds, the world was now inside her.
The world fell upon her head, it came
crashing down.
Her body was now filled with the debris of us; we were all inside her.
Bleeding green and blue, the world began
to breathe.
We're living in a girl we crawled inside and
as she took her last breath, the world swept her name aside.
When the world breathes heavy, it's
breathing for her, it's breathing like Eve.
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This article has 4 comments.
What poetry style is this? It's on the tip of my tongue. Not a villanelle, but...?
Instead of saying the "debris of us" which sounds very awkward, is there a reason you didn't say "our debris"? Syllables?
Very interesting poem. Did you pick this poetry form for a reason? I thought maybe you picked it because the form imitates a cycle like the cycle of life.