Graveyard Gossip

Dance if you will. Come slither upon my feet, Delightfully disguised as tragedy Completely incomplete. You still race to my conscious like Bubbles in fresh poured champagne. In rest, you’re a candlewick dripping slowly Pulling down my shade, Offering a sweet aroma and a warm glow- Which still wafts though my gallows. Where I hang; My sins betrayed me. The sincerity in my transgressions Was vague, like a whisper, That still haunts me If ghosts can be haunted, or heard. From my cobblestone to my grave, Where truth is only as sincere As my Mother’s good night kiss, Or her prayers by her bedside still, Where I now kneel Coinciding in breath, Till death.