Drips of cold water
like the language of old gods,
their anguish unfurled,
drop neatly
on my lips
heavy with the cold.
Shivers rebound
furied messages, so far untold,
till my ears burst
and wither –
I die neither from drowning
or spirit that has grown old.
Too soon snowflakes end
Warm hearts endear them to me
But sends them away
Though the world is hollow
my fingers touch the sky,
and flirt with mighty thorns,
pricked hard with my blood,
and watery seas and their sighs.
Within those other worlds
where a billion tears collide,
faces shimmer with their past,
’til imprinted on the shore,
to becomes this hollow cast.
About my life and everything else 🙌 Inst:@nihilnove
by *paige six
... from a silent space
The Broken Cannot Rise Alone...
A Repository of Discarded Poetry, Story Prompts, and Memories
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