Posted in Poems


Faded pink petals

lined her burgundy hair

as she lay immortalised

in her casket.

I let my sorrow spill out,

little drops brimming with grief,

and all of the things I had left unsaid,

they lingered in the haze of my pain.

She still smelled like rosemary –the earth—the sweetness before a thunderstorm,

when they lowered her into nature.

My lungs expanded sharply,

a pang in my chest daring to take me with her,

but I turned and walked on wobbly legs,

I walked away from the one who never left my side.

They say that anger is part of the process

but I did not feel anger

just regret


the softness of her energy wrapping itself around me.

I felt so much dissolution towards myself.

When I looked at my wrists

they were infested with holes

where my skin had begun to deteriorate.

I grew weaker until one day I could not climb out of bed

and I knew I would see her again soon.

My mind pirouetted through fields of daisy’s

and everyday her voice grew stronger

as my legs melted into the sheets.

I don’t remember what happened after that

except I awoke, here in this silence,

to a light shining through my being

and her lips pressed against the pulse of my neck.


-Eva M.M.

“Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”



I am the author of and am currently working on a book of poems. To find out more check out my about me page as well as my page about my blog and welcome to the ink angels community.

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