despair
stains the floor
everywhere
her bare feet
meet the polished wood,
slowly seeping
colorless
toward the walls.
each breath expelled
smells hot
of anguish
aged and ripe.
shards of flashing
sharp and light
slice the air
around her,
entice
with glittering
promise
of pain.
do not be drawn
into her eyes.
do not mistake
that hollow depth
for need.
there is nothing
here
for you.
6 comments:
oh my~
Blood Trail
I tried to help you
on the long shadowy trail
where all the blood spilled
and covered the tracks
we tried to follow as if
God walked here, was first
to leave small footprints
before that army followed,
scuffed away all sign.
Wonderful, Christopher! I know this trail and that army, as well.
stark and powerful.
Wow, this was amazing! I am so glad to have found you and will add you to my reading list immediately!
Reading you again to understand - as you've so dramatically changed your site and your profile picture. Here you are.
This poem is every bit as powerful today.
xo
erin
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