My veins like glass shards
itch beneath a memory
of aging brackish memories.
I couldn't lift my arms for they
fell like a breathless moment
in a forest of regrets.
No one heard them descend,
they just bled sap slowly, till all was hollow.
And all that was left was a time that fell,
and the cuts where silent.
I was a moment standing in grandeur,
but beneath it didn't really matter
I
was a hollow moment,
crumbling beneath life's weight.
