at sea (i am your serenity)

vii

commit;

with the life spam of a rose,  her petals withered and dried off, i brushed them myself off of her shoulders,

where the skin that strained there was worn by weight, days within weeks within months within years,

age is accounted for by wrinkles, I see two I see five upper and sagged not victim and deceiver,

hard wheezes and long coughs, don't dust they said, never dry the tears or blow dirt

I gathered her hair counted each grey strand, one of new birth, one of time and another unknown

I asked her where they came from

she told me devils give these as gifts, and acceptance is death. 

09/12/16