the poet and the prize

october 13th, 2020

she wrote of love
and despair in a frenzy
pulling out knotted hair,
and picking at her skin
until her scabs oozed red

she's drunk at 11 AM
because sober mornings drag on
like she's being dragged to slaughter
and time waits for no one
so why not now?

despite it all he loves her
through madness so bizarre
an eccentric poet scrawling
the tales of her uphill battle
to get better for his sake
and for hers

the poet knows only solitude
the artist makes a mockery of love
but the prize beckons her so brightly
and their stars align up above

* back to drops *