by Adriane Tharp
was sealed inside herself like a Russian doll,
secrets written in the splinters of her wooden skin.
The people believed that if they shut out the sound,
it would cease to exist,
so eyes were averted from Amelie.
She cried diamonds into a satin pillowcase at dusk
while the moon retraced footprints in pursuit
of a mutual friend they used to know.
Beautiful and sad she scribbled in the sand with her finger.
She fell asleep on the shore to the waning echoes of Sea Foam Sound
and the ghostly awareness that his palm was still protected in hers.
The surf stole beautiful from the sands
and sad was all that remained of Amelie.
Poem Copyright © 2013 by