Poem – “Erase Thee from Misery” – Romance – 8/6/2020

I come with blank slates,
To render your fires empty of passion
That you have lifted to Heaven.
You pass on
With eyes that reach to the delicate waves
Where there is no storm.
Your arms reach
To the corpses trailing an avenue,
While stench is left behind
At the ends of your fingers.

You grow thorns for the making of flowers,
Wrestling with the clock of time.
You drink the passion like liquid light,
Bleeding cascades over your eyes.
I dream
Without screams,
Without pride to express
Of it.

I come with blank slates,
To leave you open
To newer, better rays
Of sunlight not so feeble,
Not so lost
Amid the fields of thorns
That drink
From their venomous roots.
I come with the antidote
Of fires that replace your misery.

I empty forests
You have called home
Of their trees.
For you said upon the one,
To the next,
"I look forward to seeing what shall hex
Me, to be broken."