S.O.S

She fixed words with Tiger's maw
In the brisk of November night
Famished for more of what used to govern her through, as tepid leaves fell
12 variations of Emerald and bloodfire tiptoe Suburban air
Stalking one window by which she wept
Goodbyes rendered her soul a deep blue, and still
She must relive them
Vibrations that work year-round to destroy, but not rebuild
Cold, broken, swept under Cupid's old rug
A crinkled white flag waving messages all too familiar
Hidden from sight, sound, fortune - she is undone
Hoping to be reunited with kind, warm hands - and words
Her shot at real happiness
For all it took, was one