The clouds burned
off around sunset.
My smile is stitched,
wilting and ragged.
Off around sunset
the dead rose,
wilting and ragged,
bloomed.
The dead rose
also: shambling,
bloomed
from the grave.
Also shambling,
my body decays, but
from the grave
I am revived.
My body decays, but
my smile is stitched.
I am revived.
The clouds burned.
2 comments:
"my smile is stitched"
poignant imagery. i wish i could have thought of that :)
This is completely lovely, little bro. You kinda rock.
-Rachel
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