Death Still Beckons
If vines erupted and conquered my name,
On weather-cracked-stone beneath sullen skies;
Where shrouded secrets sink smothered in shame,
Circled by vultures that pray passion dies;
Eager to feed on Rigamortised dreams,
Candlewax death-cicles frozen insane;
Recycled failures devolving from screams,
Heard ruptured eyes when I couldn’t say plain –
Although tomorrow seems life-times away,
After yesterday killed ours yet unseen,
I loved you then, would then, and do today,
Despite your silence which suffocates green;
Then truly would I gasp bereft of breath,
When still unforgiven beckons cruel death.
Written: 10/2/2016
Submittal for: Overgrown with Vines
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
Copyright © Phillip Garcia | Year Posted 2016
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