he shared his spine with a burden,

gathered from the dawn

any brilliance the sun had shown

pushed unevenly into sack,

leaving a dark blankness

made out of the best material,

various tones of illumination would

not seep through,

spine arched aching

soul knew no such liberty

it had been love and liquor,

was once two side by side,

fevered in a dry throated way

from this darkness whispers

gathered and grew,

there is no borrowed sunshine

it is all packed away

and we must want,

for one day blossoms with the 

color of dawn,

that loving spot my infancy

once knew,

bent as a sleeping brow

spine shuddered at some point

that burden would be unloaded,

to give quiet oceans

and a lingering day

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Comments
  1. Beautiful. I love `bent as a sleeping brow’

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