kennesaw stroll (longing)

his heart was a bouquet
laid at the jagged edge
of an unmarked grave

her love clawed desperately
at the silk lined box
six feet beneath happiness

hope is the moon reflected
off the curving blade
pitted by bitter sorrow

joy the deepest wound
carved with insolent skill
raggedly spilling forth

his soul the primordial soup
her smile random chaos
birthing life from nothingness

i hear your heartbeat pounding in my skull as the cold wraps itself around trembling limbs, this emptiness is suffocating in prefabricated purgatory at the edge of nowhere, the winds howl the fury of the nameless pains that strive to paint the world in sapphire trepidation, still your heartbeat calls and i long to answer

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