Exhumation


The grass was damp with tears
muddled moans escaped dry throat
curled, limbs wound around limp you
dark of shadowed night strangled, choked

Cold. So cold, your pallid skin…
held in my warm hands, frozen
frigid fingers drew dead hair
color alive and dark, as always

Solitary stories recited of our ageless love
empty air all that listened, my pensive voice
echoed on callous crypts, hung in air above
…stone cares as much as some humans…

Time shifted in waves of forgotten memory
your brittle body becoming less than alive
a voice I heard I swore was yours ~ was it mine?
how did I miss you were dying?

No. Dead.
You were gone. No flesh.
And when I looked down,
all I held was your skull

…all that was left:

an empty grave
a shovel
and

our exhumed love

~ E

10.29.16

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16 thoughts on “Exhumation

      1. I do, i always wanted to be able to draw, even a basic level would be OK, but i am worse than useless at even matchstick people. Alas I only have words, which is a shame as I think my imagination is quite visual as opposed to verbal. Cant even take a half decent photo either.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But, I understand the struggle as it’s been mine, too, I guess that’s why I’m digging deep here to get out of my comfort zone and see what my brain can produce when I give it the chance. It did feel like work, though! In a good way, I suppose. Mass respect for the true artists out there.

        Liked by 1 person

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