a piece of the universe

She
is the wild;
a child of flowers and
planetary motions,
created of stardust and
half recalled memories.
Ivy thriving,
twining through hair,
roses stemming through limbs;
hidden pain and beauty inside.
She’s got eyes of the moon,
half full pieces of dreams and
the scars on her body are
yet defined constellations;
waiting, aching to be traced by
hands that forget how to
tremble,
by fingertips stained with
wildberry sweetness.
She has the mouth of a hunter;
hungry and lusting,
she keeps her vulnerabilities
at the back of her throat, tasting the Hemlock,
coating her words best left unspoken.
Her heart is pumping,
thumping, blood racing through
copper frail casing; ropes of veins
as she paces.
She is never detained yet
she sometimes wishes
to be held