Poem – “Kiss the Grave, as I Stand up” – Romance – 9/15/2020

Let yourself be named, “hope”,
For you
Have found the twine,
The rope
That saw me hanging
By a gentle sway,
After a greater tug of myself
Into this well.

Run your tears like wax
Down the braided piece of string,
Thin as your eyelashes,
Long as your arms
To where I reside.
I must come up.

Like dismal Autumn leaves,
You leak the contents of your eyes
Down all sides of the rope,
To my neck.
Though I am well-dead,
You have been fed, by grief.

Create your current
Down where dreams come, untangled,
Down where bodies are mangled,
Calling your future, “awakening”.

The looseness
Of your bereavement
Is as sullen,
Is as sounding
As the blood that smears from my throat,
To the echoes of this well.

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