my spirit lies sombrely on its death bed
and even against this cold, wilted skin,
everything else pales in comparison.
There is nothing here if not anger,
and yet he too has returned to his lair,
exhausted and frail in his years of service.
With fires left to embers and words forgotten
to empty whispers, their flowers are dead,
and their petals are dust. Only my bones remain
to mark a life lived half-empty for some reason that
is beyond my reach. Some cosmic joke of a question
that I cannot answer, no matter how I should be able to.
Solace proves fruitless day after day
and their words, though kind, are lost to the earth.
YOU ARE READING
sugar glazed.
Poetrya collection of short and long poems that entail hopefully a real perspective on life, love and relationships with others. please read with caution, some themes are heavy so read away, darlings, or don't, after all, ignorance is bliss.
