Abigail

Green lit pathways guids curiousity
Salt caressing the gentle flesh bends
Lightening cracks through the top story
Fueld by fire peircing the coffer

Sitting thorugh a silent movie
Wisps of ash grips to the core
Cannodade raises Welkin
Heart races swallowing abyss

Illumination banadge the rag soul
Gravity eating through
Blankets of white wrap the core
Not a sound, no one is there

Leaves surf the salt bends
Burning desire turns into ash
Diving into what seems to be
A place always familiar...

Winter grasping the soles
Holding tightly a warm reminder of rust
Enslaved to white blankets
The flesh barries into the rust pool

Drinking red wine nods to rest
Never to follow a rabbit
Never to look at colors
Never to be held