devouring

I have never been fond of such delicate flowers folding inward as the thorns puncture through.

Not one moment has the glistening, glare of that brilliant sun provided a vision to combat such shadows.

And so there, there you are standing still in that corner gazing back at me with pitiful patience.

Even when that casket seals, the earth covers and the grass grows, even then you do not fade.

Rusty shovels digging fast and yet the hole refills as quickly as it is emptied.

No you can't take this from me, you will not steal such sentimental memories with your whimsical follies of devil's play.

Leave me here, let me lay with the silence of these coffin walls and let the dead sleep without falling to your prey.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

A lot of anger in this one. It comes across as a voice from beyond the grave, but my sense is that it emanates from one still above ground.

[AKhaus]

above ground but haunted by the grave...thank you as always