MoP, Day 6

she ran in front of me
patter patter, bare feet on cobblestone
branches whipping fragile feathers
of blood across our cheeks

her smile flew across her face
like her hair, crazy in wind
her words were incessant
never ending
like a broken pipe that
one day

the castle loomed above us
I felt myself melt
beneath its stare
vines crept across the walls,
eyeing us off, sizing us up

the air grew colder, quieter
ever her voice melted away
though the words kept coming


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