Odessa Lolita Achilles Scar

From dust and sin my verses take their flight,
On borrowed wings they rise beyond the night.
To her, my muse, I give each hidden line,
Yet keep her name from crowds that twist and twine.

I’ve learned how easily a friend can close,
And how our own can deal the deepest blows.

Sun-warmed in skin, yet harboring the cold,
A living flame—most dangerous when bold.
Her lips are set, her gaze escapes above,
A swan-like form suspended over love—
Or flight… or fall… or something undefined.

Her past runs deep—no gentle, simple mind.
She knew too much before she came of age,

At thirteen, standing at the edge of fate,
She drank from life a cup too sharp, too late.

In Odessa’s streets, love wore her to the bone,
A gambler’s rhythm she would call her own.

By Apollo struck—Achilles’ hidden scar,
One fleeting wound can shape us from afar.

No poet’s thought could ever trace her way,
Her inner storms no language could convey.

She seeks a father buried in the past,
To mend a love she knew could never last.
And in that search, through shadow, fire, and breath,
She moves beyond what held her in the past.