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His eyes the pitted roots

Pinned like a steeple

Beneath the fearful soil

Watching as the cracks began to grow

Their snake path trails

Lost too soon

Beneath the baking sun

Its twisted kiss reaching out

Like the first birdsong of summer

Its death-winter words

Masked behind the sweetness

Its melodious hum

Rising from the fallen ash

Dreams like smoldering flakes of paper

Flicker brief eye shadows

Burst like wishes in the light

Invisible they slink back between the cracks

Dust-filled shoes trace marks upon the sandstone

Weather-worn features carved smooth

Like the drowned as they slide

With graceful elegance beneath the waves

Hands puffed soft

Like a newborn babe already dead

Eyes innocence wide

With knowledge of every unwritten word

Wishing for things that could not be

A second sight that withers falls

Like death-head petals

Velvet-soft caressing cheeks

Their stain blood-brown upon our skins

The mark of the condemned

Silent executioners move within us

Haunting the places we call home

Biding their time until we no longer feel

The pain

Our eyes in resignation raised

To see between the cracks

Too late to pull

Our pitted root souls.

 

© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2018

 

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