Holding your own
From the rope that swings your feet.
Just a burial away
From a face, marked in place,
From a kiss, you’ve surely missed
On the long slopes of your voyage,
Dreaming for a world to rise
To your tongue
Laced with ashes.
You’ll come to taste
The fever, in awakened haste,
While the moon stands, above,
As the sun is buried, below.
Solace is your reprieve,
As the sun left you
Beneath, where the heavy trails
Go silent in their coldness.
Streaming your fears
Like a cloak of stars about your shoulders,
Warming you with the cold night,
Saving your mind in the ashen fright,
Withering your heart in your sickened sight.
A frown is caked upon your face,
Heavy with the crown of cruelty
That stains your face, in its bleeding thorns,
Leaving pieces of your broken heart,
Behind, and blind
To each wandering moment to arrive.