deepundergroundpoetry.com

Vigil

 
I lay awake
in a soft-light state
thinking of all the voices
that had come and gone

the good ones that stayed

how their memories echoed
through amber streetlight
barely shadows in the dark.

I think of him
the curve of his accent
covering old wounds
in new bandages

how I missed him
in poetry and photographs
that no-one really knows
except me

the sacred vessel
the empty shell

waiting to be filled
by a word, a look,
an apology that
never comes.

Pain is a skin suit

it dresses me in bruised clothes
worthy of nothing but the dance
I step silently into, barefoot
where nobody watches

as I stare at a cold ceiling
clutching my vacant womb
wishing to climb back
inside the stars

beyond those hands

beyond this tomb


Written by Northern_Soul
Published
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