relic
No longer am I fine where vines grow, left alone to a kingdom built from surrender
Iād rather shelter my abandon and leave the roses to the stone
Unbecoming
the oppression of softness
taste eternity born from decay
like stretch marks on skin
wilted by suffocation
of a lasting scent
To stay
for once to stay
a shadow of memory,
a body dedicated to age,
to crumble with touch
inducing intimacy
from the ashes engraved
with fingerprints,
to warm
the hand of devotion
nourished with the tenderness
said to remain
in the heart of a corpse
with no grave
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