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.
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