Updated: Jul 1
By Ella Bowler
She is instilled into everyday life.
are her pale bruised thighs
and her starry eyes
are embedded among it.
The wind reminds me of her slumber,
for in its whistle I hear her murmur
and snore and toss and talk softly to me.
How it would soothe me.
In these moments, I forget
I indulge in the past,
remembering the love I once had