Rising death
5/12/26 12:47 pm
I am the waking sky.
From ravaged rose,
Vivid violets,
Bleeding blues,
And barbed Blackness.
Every bit of flesh, bone, and blood fills with Colors that sear through even iron-skinned bodies.
Rose-wounds, blood oozing from trust torn out of my chest.
Violet is the world stitched quiet at last.
Blue, sorrow puddled under my splintering ribs born from the nights you belonged everywhere but beside me.
And Black,
The part of me carved out by the blade of your tongue,
Left a cavity where warmth used to breathe.
Cold settles like dust in the hollow of my chest.
But even the darkest nights eventually thin,
And the sun emerges washing the darkness in gold that sings and colors carrying a mercy I never expected.
Each ray finds my shattered body where I fell,
The sun caresses me with warm hands pressing trust into my veins,
Light returning to my eyes,
And softness to my skin.
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