The magnolia flowers were there. The magnolia flowers were rare.
White as white gold, white as milk, white as silk
of a bride’s dress, as the silence after a vow,
as a sheet stained with blood, as teeth in the widest smile,
white as the thought that was pure but forbidden.
White as the name that has yet to be written.
© 2019, Gabrielesque (Gabriela V.). All rights reserved. On republishing this post, you must provide a link to the original post.