If my trial has ended,
why do your stones still lay at my feet?
My deepest wounds will never heal until their forgotten.
No, always they fester, they ache,
like my broken heart which is bled to near death,
over and over, as I lay in this cold dark place alone.
I had to run from the pitchforks and torches.
Chased away, like a monster…
who once held the hand of a princess.
I still look for her in the moon,
wish for her in my dreams.
Come to me again my love in pardon,
or come to finish me off instead.
Writer, Poet, Thinker, Paralegal, Miawpukek First Nations, GymLife, Runner, Bike Writer, & Pun Enthusiast I like my puns intended. ✍️
“I don’t claim to be a great writer, but I’m enjoying the journey of becoming one”
View all posts by Ash Douglas