stranded.

she sits, still.
amidst the growing tide and deafening storm.
perched on a rock, beneath the eye.

black stars printed on her bare shoulders.
wings ripped from her shadow.
dignity lost.

violet hair escapes into the gale.
the only movement she makes.
as the world trembles before her.

the shrieks of the nearing apocalypse.
they do not faze her.
she is stranded, in the clutches of chaos.

silent tears carving unspoken words.
salt of the ocean, intertwined.
with the salt of the buried soul.

the moisture lost from fearless waves.
smeared over her naked skin.
glistening, wet, melting with the blue.

open, exposed, welcoming release.
yet she will not surrender to her captor's seduction.
beauty and wit never leave her side.

the cold cannot penetrate her.
she clings to the warmth inside.
she belongs in the air, resting on crimson wings.

defiant, she sits, still.
wounds yearning for affection.
waiting her turn.