Inspired by this awesome prompt.

There, the shores of lonely remembrance see as to I have brought
On the stirring abandoned rivers that are breathless through the shriveled drops of blood,
And it is glinted from the wounding sun upon my pale skin that flutters upon the shallow surf,
And I, oh, I will be beside the sunsets and shadows that waned through the pretty moans,
Gemmed with tears that will roll as the grappling sea that lays with a reflection of rattled and splintering waves that will curl upon the quiet stones;

I light a small flame on the hemmed grounds and warm my hands, a torrent of blood, through cracked skin,
And I lie as the silence kills me; it is like a weeping flourishing flower under the ghostly moon that withdrew over the despaired waters, and I wonder through the ramblings of a geranium leaf
In the trace of tea we’ve shared, ensconced on the counters, while we recount in broken languages
Of the past or present ripples we’ve known too well that gushes as a dark wound
That rests against the “surf-tormented” dream, and I’ll see myself fading into the reaped haycocks
Into the retreating morning that mesmerizes the long-lit stars
Into a thistle sky of bygone rivers below the roasted beams from the autumn sun,

And the murmurs of my heart ache as well as through the surf and torrents of another dream
And my heart weaved through the candle wick, as the starlight quivered,
It seemed to me that like the shadows, it all goes away
At the sightless end of the red sun with its golden beams that serenade
Through its song of light
It was as if at that moment, the whole world seemed to fit in a shred of crystal dew that weeps under the tongue of the blue river,

And I cross through the sands that will leave my glistening hands under the tempt of a preamble of winter, and the light tossed, the fires rose like the ichor from the sunbeams that shine upon wholly stones like gold,
Where I keep hope to find the shattered ruins from the lone seams that shiver in the moonlight,

As I can see the ravished shores as they carry me away upon the torrents of remembrance
Where upon this surf I stand alone.

© 2019 Pseudopsychosis All Rights Reserved.

14 thoughts on “Alone.”

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