worth the words

drowning in shallow water
it happens
sometimes, we’re just
the field of daisies, not the rose
bound tight in red velvet – thorns in
sometimes, we’re just
the length of soft white sacrifice
closing eyes and accepting the craving
the blame
the fever
we are a modern disaster
full of hopes and ever-afters
waiting for the golden blur – the interlude
buying into the dream
and I’m still deciding
if this was worth the words

M.