Stop Crying


Her tears flowed like a waterfall,

never ending despite his pleas,

tumbling over reddened rimmed lids,

cascading down pale sunken cheeks,

streaming over a trembling chin, and

freefalling to her beating breast,

to be lost in patterned poly cotton blend.

About justbrinkley

poetry, flash fiction, prompts from a southern granny who should have been a writer.
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