Witch’s Brew

Her eyes are sunken into her face her heart sunken into her stomach a cauldron in her memories boils over frothing savagely when watched Shadows cast her brew in a sinister dark but it is only the shadows' premise an illusion cast only by our flickering light Her potion is a bitter and benign but its savor of tears scalds when tasted caustically peeling her ashen layers till her loneliness shines through the cracks A misplaced tome on a high shelf she is buried premature in histories invisibly wilting to become one She is folklore and rumors a witches tale to caution young girls She haunts her den in exile and her cackling roils the night drawn from the sobs of her sorrow and the echoes on her barren walls.