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White Soul

Despair filled the cruel spaces of dark
as she listened to that morbid old song,
reminding her heart over and over again
of her life so dusty, damp and wrong.

Sunless flowers crying in tight grey vases
hesitated shyly towards a rusty tall door,
withered leaves and some torn magazines
were reminiscences of a life lived before.

Empty and clean, she opened the drawer
for a small amount of dangerous energy,
hands trembling a bit, a thirst for eternity
as she snorted her white soul in synergy.

A thousand stars put flowers in her hair,
Her child’s eyes dilated, her blood did flow,
tremor, vertigo, she slept in her sweet depths,
but who cared? But who wanted to know?

Karla Bardanza

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