tagNon-Erotic PoetryRoadkill

Roadkill

bycyravance©

The asphalt's black and cold and on it
Is the remnant of some tiny soul.
Skin and hair and shattered bone,
Collapsing upon itself, shrinking down.

The breeze stirred up by passing cars
Stirs the fur, which gently waves.
It almost seems alive, but it's just an
Illusion. It's been dead for days.

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bycyravance© 0 comments/ 553 views/ 0 favorites

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