Your horsehair touch unearths me,
Memories I forbade,
Soft and tender you recall
Scars that others made.
The dust that I had hid beneath
Now lingers in the air,
But only you, my seeking soul,
Could handle me with care.
The breeze finally reaches me,
That sullen winter sheen,
But in your warmth I dare to bask,
In you the sun I've seen.
I stretch an arm for the first time
In thousand moons of late,
And in my grasp I feel your own,
Our hands designed by fate.
I was made to die before and rot in bogs beneath
So you would free me from a Boulderous Heart
That Ghoul of Love's Retreat.
And though I stand here skeletal,
My time no less adverse,
I reach across that azure veil
With these, my living words.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Collection
PoesíaA simple collection of my poetry, some gathered from old notebooks and some bespoke writings for this collection. There is something of a narrative, loosely speaking, that could be constructed here, with recurring mentions of places and unnamed cha...
