fragments of lovers
burned fast
fall to ash
in this charcoaled heap
that lay afoot
this exterior
excoriated
by the nails
of their failings
but none can impale
for I only have lived
in the aftermath
of a restless memory
forged in a dream
i hazard to ponder
if love had ever surpassed
the scorching
of this insolent soul.
but all I have
beheld
is mounds of
rubble
pounding
plotting
persisting.
the sea now beckons
the sanctity of sleep
on her floor
of forgiving
through this channel of tears
from sorrows impounded


