their
forms
like
wax
melted
in
white
smears
down
their
vase

star­­s
abandon
them

their
moon
eclipsed

beautiful
still
the
sun
whi­c­h
once
sustained
them
is
now
their
sworn
enemy

and
their
cloyi­ng­
scent
fills
only
the
nostrils
of

the

dead



SoulSurvivor
(­C­) 1/31/2016