I gathered
flint sparks that your eyes blinked,
to mold to a centerpiece;
a cavity recalling the decay from my touch.

A song
of lacerating silence plays while,
in marble stillness, shapes float
at the pitch of a nightmare.

Those walls
whisper, “refuge” fenced in by
seductive war trenches,
littered by my many past corpses.

I am like Hades;
annihilating and cold,
collecting the tide’s souls
before they bruise my bones.

I know
the secret of the stars; how they don’t float;
they hung themselves instead
choked by gravity’s rope.

That silent song
drains my fictive veins of blue,
It wants to make me like the stars:
I’ll shine when dead, too.

I walk, eyes boycotting colors.
Through windows I see
puppets pretending to be lovers.

They think
the stars are their own confetti.
I am not like them.
I never wanted eternity.



About RebeccaFionna

Poetess and Dragon goddess since 1992
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