Empty Tomb
Swaying
a sweetness,
trespassing
salt-cracked hearts
that pass in prophecy.
Stumbling
upon angels,
awaiting
steadfast negligence
of tranquil demands.
Rolling
stony silence,
coveting
words that ache
to be born
into my arms.
Time ticks wanton.
© Katypoetess 2015
Nigel Astell
Wed 9th Dec 2015 07:28
Inside your tomb I see the empty words
salt-cracked hearts
of tranquil demands
words that ache
are already born.