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Untitled (1st draft)

Unstoppable clockwork seasons, spring mocks with dewdrop gossamer chalk upon lawns, frostbitten blossoms slaughtered, catastrophic apocalypse and thaw. Wrought iron rusted, long lost, oxidized trying to be stronger than the ongoing trauma that gnaws soul suffering from exhaustion body got locked in sarcophagus box and this coffin rotting skin has forgotten the softness, just the rocky bottom of mausoleum walls.
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Written by
CatDadJynx
31 / M
Published
Apr 19, 2025
LinesยทWords
23ยท60
Notes

This poem is probably just another throwaway but I wrote it with a particular mausoleum in mind. Its at a cemetery in my hometown just tucked away off some side street (you'd have no idea it was even there til you come up on it) with the mausoleum built into a hill. Never looked into it before but apparently it was built in 1896 by a man who started as a furniture salesmen then became postmaster of the town, for the man's wife (and gifted to the city of amherst right afterwards... only to be other family members and his own resting place in 1923). Also weird coincidence, he and his wife were married on (what would eventually be) my birthday lol... gonna have to wish em a happy anniversary every year ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿฅ€

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