Little BatSudden silver snowfall rushed the ground,Cold lips warmed me amidst the hiss Of icy petals, winding between us Caught my eyelashes, your glassesOur umbrella.Winter burned through my nose and lungsMy arteries pounded like a drum circleThe sound of blood filled my earsIt was then, I realized You heard me too.A thousand moments from thereFrost is scorched by summerMy blood is bitter with sunOur tempers spark the airI wish for snow.Later, you will wrap your limbs around meThe cool night will soothe our woundsWe'll bed our tempers with the heatAs you curl around my bones, I'll ask"Can you hear my blood?"
Grave One: DeathI sat in the corner of the bathroom, knee pulled to my chest and my body shaking with silent tears. Shock and grief filled me, all I could comprehend were these emotions threatening to consume me entirely. I couldn't believe she was gone. My mother. The only one who was there to protect me from the bitter world that had already done so much damage. Now she was gone and I was alone in a existence no longer worth preserving. The tears continued build up and cloud my eyes, until they spilled and ran down, leaving black trails behind on my face.I knew this was going to happen, but nothing could have prepared me for it. She had been diagnosed
Grave Two: RainThe door rattled loudly as I slammed it shut, locking it then throwing my keys onto the kitchen table. I flick the light switch and the fan light sputters and blinks, but eventually turns on. It illuminates a ratty, one-room apartment that probably hadn't seen a mop in at least a year. There are few furnishings, consisting mostly of a futon shoved away in the corner, a second-hand couch and small kitchenette. The walls are wood that has faded to an odd shade of gray, as has the floor, bare except for a worn-thin rug. The only light beside the ceiling fan come from a large bay window on the back wall, clouding and cracked, but still allowing a
Grave Three: LazarusI was cold. Filled with an icy touch that penetrates every inch, when one can feel their very insides sliding against each other. In contrast, the warm air burned my skin, beads of sweat formed on my forehead, then dripped down, leaving fiery trails on my face and neck.I opened my eyes, two things hit me. First, was the sight and scent of roses. Bouquet upon bouquet of them, scattered about my apartment on whatever surface was available. Second, was the (and by now, somewhat familiar) was realization that I was alive to behold the first. I felt a stinging sensation in the palm of my hand, and looked down the see a slightly bruis
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