Burial of a Life
By sweetbrother
You cradle it in your arms like a lover, then polish it to a dusky sheen looking to see your face reflected But it is of no earthly use to you it is not a talisman that protects you from harm You can only be drawn by its seductive power like a moth to a flame Now, your only course is to light candles for it and say an incantation With your newly-calloused fingers, scoop up handfuls of the crumbling soil that makes your bed- and lay that thing to rest then turn and walk away for you must go and build a new one. Written November 7th, 2001 © on Nov 07 2001 03:43 AM PST 0 • 1
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"You cradle it in your arms..."