This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Gustavus chapter.
Spectre
I am like
The plume of smoke
That rises from the back of
Phoenix throats
In mid October;
Burns, dissolves, rises in
Languid curls like incense
In offering,
I am reborn and recolored
In every exhale.
Do not forget
That you have a heart
As intricate as ice-lace
On windows frozen over,
As pure and sweet as the first thaw,
As colorful as everything on
Every street in every part
Of the world inside
Your head,
As soft as a prayer,
As good as a
Promise.
A Truth Worth Noting
Even the Snake Charmer
Is not immune
To the venom of the cobras
He traps in his basket.