Her soul.


Her soul was buried in the deepest of her oceans,

Awake, more than once, there’s a light she could see.

Up the surface she goes bearing her breathless soul,

But the waves were so strong twice the currents down below.

She was left with no choice but to choose with the two,

The storm up above or the calmness of the deep.

Two endings she supposed, “Which one should I choose?”

Her soul cannot breathe, “My heart, it felt cold.”


Poetry Entry #4

© 2020 Christine Lucero. All Rights Reserved.

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