tagNon-Erotic PoetryScattered bones

Scattered bones


The scattered bones of her in me,
facial structure so familiar yet strange.
Do the eyes tell her story?
I think not for I'll never meet your eye,
that contact is but a shadow
that passes by then sinks to cover
and numb broken branches.
Jagged from the long fall unhealed
they break her skin, so cold
this skeleton shivers.
Twilight threatens a growing storm
the bones glow whitely,
washed and resurrected where they fell
just one more statistic.
She is me, perpetrators dead and gone
and no-one paid the price.

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byUnderYourSpell© 2 comments/ 1867 views/ 1 favorites

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