Project: Inkwell Poets Society

If Venna could choose,

She’d be a fairy of food

By the witch’s side, bubbling cauldron

Some roots, some vine, the flesh of the fruit

Cravings, mystical, unique.

 

A broken heart, she seeps in the cracks;

To do what she was formed for

Yet this broken heart has new strings

Sings a new tune by another’s side

“I believe in myself,” the refreshened heart sings

 

Reprimanded, Venna must turn to

A more desperate source of glum,

He rejected more times than

The grains of flour in a baker’s dozen,

Yet he symbolized uncorrupted hope.

 

So Venna finds herself trying to thwart

The innocent attempts of a young man

In chasing after a man his age,

When your strength upon depressed emotions does feed,

The unformed couple’s Venna’s new fodder.

 

The delicacies of a just-chilled dessert,

The piping-hot crust of a slice straight from the oven,

Menus upon menus Venna wishes were enough

But her instincts to which she must abide

Delegate to her a more brittle, aching chow.