The Fall
wintery streams crossed
under moonlit paths
fiery hands held
shadows pass uninterrupted
honey words, bitter taste
--we yet hang to each
hearts ebbed on cliffs
this is your chase
it is my leap
Snow Souls
Trembling lips
Trampled souls
Laid to the naked white spread
The cold, cold snow
Like blisters onto palms
Crashes like shores to thy core
None knows--
Save one who tasted thee,
Tangy sharp flakes!
Brihintha Burggee has been writing for two years now. She lives in a small island named Mauritius in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Aged 20, she has learned to allow her pen to write for her when speech could not be eloquent anymore. Her works have been previously published by The Rainbow Rose, Harbinger Asylum, Pyrokinection, The Black Mirror Magazine, Mad Swirl, Napalm and Novocain, The Camel Saloon, Dead Snakes, amongst others.
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