By Heather Parker

Tonal ash colored horizon

heave the hardship of

realizations. Gray stained thickness

engulfs my poisoned corpse.

Branches crooked like

fingers encase me in

a vine ridden tomb. Dark decaying

timbers hollow from within.

Catastrophic desolation

plunges the soul in

peril. What would happen

to us if we decided to love more?

Our crumbled vitality couldn’t

withstand the impact.