Bury me deep within you, into your thirsting embrace. You shoulders are leaves crisp with dew, a cold, white stone is your face. The wind in the night sings your song, blowing through weeds of your hair. Draping arms six feet long hug the dark soiled dress you wear. A blanket of blades is your veil, but your sweet dark burrow is free. I quickly descend and impale so all that within you is me. On your face, my name's inscribed, and right beneath, the day I died. --Jennifer Gardner
Reason for writing:
I just wrote it. Inspiration is mysterious in itself.
Birth sign: Not entered
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