emc poetry

Jewels on the crown,

lonely in soul

no one can ever love

a wench in stolen clothes.

I am no matriarch,

no pleasantries please

it’s too dark for me to

read my pompous prose.

I thought you might love the girl with

flowers on the mantle

and charcoal in her hands

but it seems you stray

further away

as the light revels

the jewels

are made of paper

and her heart, too.

-emc