The end of the world Smog swirls outside my window Flames fall from above
By Natassia Lawrenceabout a year ago in Poets
Ravens stir the dusk, echoes crawl through coffin wood, midnight will not sleep.
By Tim Carmichaelabout a year ago in Poets
the falling leaves woman and dog running through crunchity crunch.
By Mark Grahamabout a year ago in Poets
she looked at the space where she knew he had just been not but ash remained
By Chrissy MKMabout a year ago in Poets
My dead sister's hair Was always looking pretty Hey who used my brush?
By ᔕᗩᗰ ᕼᗩᖇTYabout a year ago in Poets
Windows bleed with dusk, a child’s laugh slips through the walls no one lives here now.
Names carved into stone, the wind reads them out to me none are strangers now.
Branches claw the moon, footsteps echo with no source the forest listens.
Fresh earth, still unsettled, yet the coffin scratches loud something wants to leave.
At midnight it rings, a dead voice whispers “hello” the line goes silent.
Dust coats broken toys, yet the rocking horse still sways, as if played with now.
One crow on the cross, calling through the graveyard mist it knows all the names
