Scorn magnetizes
Everyday blood-flows,
Captures you in the nearest puddle
As your eyes set with the sun.
Flown with white flags upon your back,
As strain comes to hold you
To bring curtains upon
Each spare ray of sunshine.
A clear spring
With heat that stretches
For the thinnest
Obstacle to overcome,
The longest rope,
The deepest haze.
A descent to a puddle,
As vapor makes arrangement
In your lungs.
Blood runs, closely
Without opened veins,
Parted lips.
You find your sadness,
Appealing to the shores
Where you crash
To surface,
Stuck to the sky
As you had died,
Closing a chapter on Autumn,
On dried blood,
Brittle leaves.
A buried sun
Leaves you hanging
From a noose carrying you
In remainder,
In reminder
To each message
To pass on.
Reblogged this on Roger's Vault.
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What a lovely poem.
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