My Beautiful Dead Girl – A Poem


Haunted eyes

wrapped in misery.

You are already dead,

so why should you feel pain?

 

Pain is your purgatory

little girl, a grand gift

from scales that can never

be balanced in your favor.

 

Haunted eyes they may be,

but I see defiance, strength,

lingering deep, always

ready to rise to the surface.

 

Never did death look so beautiful

A perfection in form chiseled

from stone beaten up and torn

down by the elements.

 

You wear your cloak well,

dark and tear stained, wrapped

tight around a body that

still flies free.

 

You are my beautiful dead girl.

with cold hands clenching tight around

a warm heart

that beats just for you.

by Philip Wardlow

5 thoughts on “My Beautiful Dead Girl – A Poem”

  1. This was brilliant and striking sir. Major kudos on tapping in the core of something beautiful in the most unconventional ways. I really connected with it and that’s a rarity on my part when browsing the artistic community in its whole. I’m using some of this poem in some of my pictures, I hope that’s okay. I’m crediting you in them.

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