The Garden Tomb

Stars burning across your garden, Saturn's shadow chasing my soul imprisoned within window-panes, pressing firmly your hand print knuckles whitened, brown eyes fixed through entombed vessels once a mirrored heart. Dancing in my darkened room, your white cotton gown tattered thread-bare transparent, shrouding your body. Your brazen smirk, inked indigo blue washing my old shirt in hate, wrapped arms are you wearing my skin a sanctuary of secrets-- bandaged hair tied with pinned bones loosely across a glass shattered back sipping that damn mint tea, a Jezebel's cure for insomnia. cradled with delicate hands, hands that clutch my spirit hands stained crimson red you murderer of memories. Darkness finds me awake paralyzed by endless weaving roads, my presence-- an aroma of the rotting apricot stained lips the faceless mural on a wall, life burning away layers of ash settling the soot on your black tear-stained pillows. Functioned divorced my body, wanting you to release me.