windows rattled
on edge,
huddling against our cinder blanket,
it was on the frame that we etched out,
prematurely, our obituaries
tilting in a tempest;
the world shattered away
with some painter going off to mourn
his shards
slicing the cliff of your cheek,
weathering,
eroding,
dripping like the earth’s wine
Aug 15, 2019
Aug 15, 2019 at 7:43 AM UTC
windows rattled
on edge,
huddling against our cinder blanket,
it was on the frame that we etched out,
prematurely, our obituaries
tilting in a tempest;
the world shattered away
with some painter going off to mourn
his shards
slicing the cliff of your cheek,
weathering,
eroding,
dripping like the earth’s wine