Unremembered


My skin is plastic.
he beclouds me,
Shot by his cross-bow.

I am mummified.
Entombed by fragrant shroud,
sweet-scented each night.

I am molded and crowned
by his mud and blood.
Each time I revolve.

The shimmering light,
crawls to my eyes.
Marred by his shape.

The emerald grass,
scatter along the epitaph.
It howls at the undertaker.

Shielded by the fading voices.
I absorb each echo,
with a pool of mystic eyes.

Worms feast on my breasts.
My head a home for the cries,
a phalanx with swords.

I lay down forlorn,
a dehydrated corpse.
Sautéed before the dawn.

Dethroned by him,
scrubbed by his eyes.
The water was salty.

A naked incubus.
he mutes me,
yet I shriek again.

I hear his prayer,
scratching my veins.
I remedy myself.

Only for his skin,
to beautify its wrinkles,
against the clammy air.

Tomorrow shall visit,
with no appointment.
Welcomed by I.

So the shroud shall be,
a banner of gleam,
Over the dark swamp.




















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