Their body sways at the tilt of their head
In the depths of air. Among the caved moon,
Clouds take shape and intertwine in mind's stead,
Where people reconciled at strike of noon.
Doors walled around, each a light beneath it
By the pale flesh of those gone, stacked on chairs.
Their eyes lolled back, mouths long; the decrepit.
Decrepit they were, decrepit they bare.
Living to see it now, mind blank, eyes closed,
Yanked by the arm at the edge of the bed.
The dark seemed to their dreams an unopposed
Force, swaying at the mere tilt of their head.
Remember this when you've found yourself dull,
Eyes closed, humming at the bare walls and skull.
-
117 words
— Leila N. 02/12/2020
