eternity’s grace
evidence of yesterday’s kisses
spill over into the long season
of shedding
new skin lies smooth beneath
the crackle dry surface
of the dream you had at twenty
the one that stole your color
by breathing green into a night
bargaining for darkness
you held hands with the prince
of petulance and whisper gestured
your undying fealty
to the king of lacrimosa
but the birds
pick your bones clean
now
after every word’s been spoken
you feed their flight
with dried up chips and bits
of purple
offering up the life
that was singularly yours
food for folly and for freedom
as the sky rests its head
on your satisfied
shoulders
.
.
.
October 11th, 2014 at 12:30 pm
…and there is heaven, beautifully said.
October 12th, 2014 at 12:53 pm
the shedding of skin…is not so bad a thing…the picking clean the bones, not so much…there comes a point you can only give so much before you feel as hollow as those bones…