New, original poem. I penned this on the 18th and edited it and typed it up today! I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for your support, as always!
(An elegy) To those left behind
Sharp, she focused
On the small movements
Swift, things creeping in the dark
Her listless dreams
Silent, sighs to their
Piercing screams
Soft, the movement
Of rudderless mouths,
As if to stay,
Sessile, to the harbors-
*Just*
Shadows, in garish day
Occupying naught but
Sepulcher spaces
Of light-forsaken solitude.
She could stare ‘till expiry
-Still, never-
Stop her mortal thirst,
-Saint-
Odd-prophet-wandering-a
Sadist, land
Choking sand and the memories
Of oasis dreams, long buried
Sometimes, she believes
In be-guiling streams,
Gaunt, greedily gulped
Salvation, so close to her
Golgotha touch,
Arms spread,
Like the penitent thief
Salvaging, what ghosts
Remain,
Still, giving up
For whatever draughts
- Left-
- Left-
In that weary cup
Strangled, by its bitter swell
Starving, for a single memory
*Saturnine*
Days arrested by death,
Slinking, creeping
In that sickly space
Between waking
And dreams.
