This Flesh is Certainly a Grave

Please do not say a word
when you find what you feared you would
at this edge of the world where we
can never go back, can never get it back-
life as it was lived, ends here
at this drop and we look down
upon the waves mating with rocks,
where the reds and the golden hues
do not a sunset make.
Sure, they blend.
Disgustingly beautiful how it all blends
atop the life led in shadows. It
was never truly seen nor understood
and now sinks below sea level
where its decades have long since laid rest.

Even in its defiance of gravity,
of its Maker, the scream filling the space
between the last breath and death
is never heard (but, perhaps has been read).
The lungs… pitch black,
flooded like the heart.

Once again, nothing of this is to be known.
You shall not speak a word,
for words spoken were never my thing.
My last request goes just so:
upon entrance to Heaven
and I mean yours, of course yours
because of this only you will know-

Please tell God that I am sorry
I could not wait for Him to say when.


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