Dear You,
standing between the wave and shore,
blocking the daffodils from the storm,
catching the fallen leaves, sombre; pure.
Dear You,
fingers all cold and sore
the crevice of your lips, reeking ichor
your eyes gleaming. vanishing allure
Dear You,
scraping empty corners
biting fresh cut wounds
piercing noxious lethal blades
till you are, left immune.
Dear You,
your skull on the floor
your soul on the ironing board
your skin all gone.
UNKNOWN THOUGHTS 