she dances to the beat of hollow drums
acoustic guitars with trembling strings
solemn in the archeology of the long buried
(bleeding raw wounds on the moon)
a lonesome flute on a two AM skyline
and saxophone symphonies that weep the air
offbeat sounds and taut muscles swaying
unearthing the sorrow with the echo of songs
reverberate harshly the wail of rain
(it rattles the panes with a shattered reply)
she seeks an asylum of solace from memory
caught up in the fluid ballet of surviving
a dark cloud hovers the streets of her heart
whispers come harsher as the sun finally sets
its alright to cry in a cell of solitude
(hiding the tatters inside her hands)
buried beneath the soil of eyelids
moistened by tears that tumble downstairs
brown eyes bruised when she cannot shut them
and hiding is no longer an option for her
(her prison holds her chained on concrete)
reality lives like a bile in her throat
and the world is battered by the truth of itself
whiskey would hide only so much hurt
(upon awakening it slaps you with its validity)
ending up on a dead end road…..
wherever she goes….there she remains….
those footsteps taunt and cannot elude her….
Remembrance is a heavy cross to bear….