The dusk breaks her barren face
taunting for one more evening,
one more void of no colors,
in a smoky black night
that threads into the crust of her belly,
swaying into the edges of her skin
a garland that chases her heart
the urge of vengeance
she weeps inside her womb
aflamed in the grace
of etch scars in her arms
hapless in her kindred spirit
she summons her soul
to resurrect in unstained imperfection
flowering in her silence
and someone can die
this very moment
for her beauty spaned in the dark.