Washed Away.

Washing away, a voice wrought
Upon the shines and the valance
That twisted the deadened and dried
And speech, thus writhed passed
The strangers of the morning
Into the pleach shadowed evening.

I’ll remember the strides within voice
That when I’d be still forever
If I could wake, if I could still feel
Beyond the glass, laid with a dried
Cast, and I wouldn’t know,
As I breathed,
But then I thought of Parnassians
Why, I wouldn’t know, but I’d still remember

And I’d still love
As I’d lay here, not with strife
Not dead. But I breathe
And I’d know, not as a ghost,
But as a soul
Washed away.

© 2019 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.



Categories: Poetry

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