sestina 1, spring 2022

Latest posts by Olivia (see all)

Passing early, the mirror catches eyes

The tide whisks and I cannot refrain

Slow approaches, dainty steps and lies

Simple visions, do they not contain

The perfect meaning? My heart is beating

Faster as my reflected figure dies

Invisible hope on fingertips dies

A couple of rapidly flitting eyes

Shoulders cannot take the beating

Rounded nails surpassing, should refrain;

There comes a point where even I contain

But given that, my image whispers lies

Upon the freckles an untold story lies

Even when their scarlet reverend dies

Fables every raindrop does contain

Dripping from those muddy hazel eyes

Is an homage, for tears do refrain

From giving yet another purple beating

As the figure dwindles, I am beating

The highest score of my old slew of lies

I tell myself that good girls can refrain,

The flicker of arrival simply dies

On impact, for those forest colored eyes

See far too many haunts they must contain

That is my job, above all else, contain

The sordid tale upon which putrid beating

Finds solace in my familiar eyes

The same ones who cannot close, but lies

Creep into my body as it dies

For the end is when my fingertips refrain

I suppose this is a long, unjust refrain

Referring to a thing most can contain

My life as it was here, so freshly dies

Reflections now show only the soft beating

Of my heart, not free entirely of lies

But reflections show that of hungry eyes

My healing heart cannot refrain from beating

Its bloody rhythms cleanse my former lies

My body never dies, but for the eyes.

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