Gathering Stones
It is dreadfully bitter
The taste of my imprudence
A brackish reminder
Bubbling acrid froth
Impossible
To choke back
Aftershocks heave and pitch my
Shaky foundation
Acid courses over
My
Dreams
Destroying hope of
Amaranthine love
The brine erodes each stone
So well
Etches them with its indifferent regard
Leaving me a caustic cocktail
To slake a ruthless thirst
Nothing is sweet
Everything
Burns
Dreams are best left for dreamers
I will gather stones for my foundation
Copyright © Tess Norton | Year Posted 2014
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