Twilight's Requiem
I'm swatting away mosquitoes in dusk's sticky haze.
This time last year, it was all so different.
The crickets still scream,
though this year, summer is feral and relentless.
The hair I cared for until it grazed my shoulders was chopped off, only to regrow back to the same length.
The inky dye finally fading,
like the cosmos unraveling the kisses of time,
coming full circle to the half-shaded girl.
Wisteria Lane is in full bloom,
and my hands are still calloused,
rough from burying the secrets
lurking under suburbia's manicured facade,
chopping up the bodies of women I would have become
had the clock forgotten to strike twelve.
By Christina Constantinou
Biography:
Christina Constantinou is an emerging writer with an affinity for gothic fiction and poetry. She was born and raised in southern africa, and is now a student at Skidmore College. She is the sole contributor to Literary Musings, an online essay platform.
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