Noir Rain

Courtesy: Pixabay
Bleeding lives
in a dead place forgotten.
If not for the cannonade in her head
she'd wonder if she was breathing,
or was she dreaming
in a monochrome storm again?

Wafting shadows
scattering remembered existence.
Screaming whispers swore their outrage
to the morning arriving to die,
or was survival another lie,
a tear on her finger in a noir rain?

©March 2019, March 2022
Christina Anne Hawthorne

About Christina Anne Hawthorne

Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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