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biskut-1Poems
Of hurts translucent Washed threadbare soft Of sorrows scrubbed sheer I swaddlings make Pleading with my stubborn gaze That will not tear From your strange, stilled form. One last dirge, I croon 'fore I cocoon you love, in this weave-- May it keep you warm. Cradle close in grieving arm Safe from all bruise Dash no more 'gainst stone rampart Sleep now, my tattered heart. The leave is took. Passengered in gentle palm little bird, now ascend --to the back of the topmost shelf. There, in steel chest You will rest Expunged from my breast. There are heartless Who are cruel And there are the bereaved Who walk, heartless among us.
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Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 9:31 AM UTC
The bereaved
Of hurts translucent Washed threadbare soft Of sorrows scrubbed sheer I swaddlings make Pleading with my stubborn gaze That will not tear From your strange, stilled form. One last dirge, I croon 'fore I cocoon you love, in this weave-- May it keep you warm. Cradle close in grieving arm Safe from all bruise Dash no more 'gainst stone rampart Sleep now, my tattered heart. The leave is took. Passengered in gentle palm little bird, now ascend --to the back of the topmost shelf. There, in steel chest You will rest Expunged from my breast. There are heartless Who are cruel And there are the bereaved Who walk, heartless among us.
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biskut-1
Apr 24, 2021
Apr 24, 2021 at 9:31 AM UTC
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