midnight whispers

a blood rose blooms
for the skeletal audience
their wheezing breath
still here
still here
skulls rest their cheeks a single socket viewing askew
dripping petals
flowing and pooling
the naked rose remains

a child walks beside me
whispering forgotten memories
her hand gently grabs the
seam of my trousers
smiling, carefree hair
absorbent, watchful eyes
I remember she was happy
she pours her secrets
and walks inside my knees
touching the places
that remember

my stride shortens and slows
to keep her
whispering from
those secret stories to
those hidden spaces
calling to memory
until the witching hour
has past

No commentary aside from: I got a post in in February!