ramparts loom
above the dusk, quiet, assuming
the isolation sewn
from strands of a self
in retreat
carousing steep stages
unrepentant of this
object, if I'd
only relented
an age ago
if I'd
abjure, if only
recognize--obtest
vertigo's mournful hues--
panes of sky broken
beneath the rising weight
of regret.
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1 comment:
This has got a very chilly, haunted vibe. I especially thought the first stanza very strong. :)
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