In the Shadows, Beckoning



Faceless, umbra-fineried, she sits
Chairbound, hidebound. Life bound
Up in the weight of waits.
Seconds drip, tallow of her
Guttered, dribbled. Shape shifted
Geometry of gloom.
Desolate the luster winks barren promises
She, faithless from experience, no longer believes.
Time, her enemy, her friend
Spills shadow where a flayed hand beckons.

[image credit: hotblack, via morguefile]

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