Molasses

Molasses

the door clicks behind you when you notice her.

she looks

different.

her hair is almost translucent,

her nails are short,

broken off.

her eyes are closed, fluttering-

stuttering.

you barely know her anymore.

but,

the more time you spend with her,

you notice the changes.

they’re slow

like molasses.

colour is sapped from her roots, 

stained with a blood red.

the ends are scraggly,

almost dripping from her crown.

her nails grow, 

they’re tipped in poison,

accentuating her spindly fingers.

her eyes are open,

black irises enfold you.

you reach out to touch her;

ice.

maybe you shouldn’t look in the mirror for a while.

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