... addiction ..., ... Applachia ..., ... beauty ..., ... country ..., ... death ..., ... experimental ..., ... ghosts ..., ... girl ..., ... kiss ..., ... life ..., ... love ..., ... pain ..., ... poem ..., ... poems ..., ... poetry ..., ... relationships ..., ... sex ..., ... sins ..., ... Spring ..., ... the South ..., ... the sun ..., ... time ...

all things rise, that die.

April has seized
us by the throat.

Her grip, ruthless
and unyielding.
Her gaze, comely
and exquisite.

and somewhere twixt
death and zeal
she resurrects the fringes
of Love that lay dormant,
(or dead, or decomposed,
or lost, or failed, or forgotten) –

under Winter’s joyless mantle.

Embalmed
among the dead,

ah, yet wholly aroused by
the softest tongue tickles
of sunlight.

life, at first teased,
then taken, whole.

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6 thoughts on “all things rise, that die.

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