Embelen

My chest is a geyser of flame, Spewing cinders and black froth Down every crevice in my throat. Nothing remains to be salvaged; No droplets of dew on fresh leaves, Nor nectar to be extracted—— I am only a husk, My pulpy entrails stripped And gone.

She has forgotten a time of pleated skirts, closed toe sandals, and ribbons in hair. A time of skipping into chalk squares, drawing outside the lines, basking beneath the sun. But she will remember the depths of after-school eons, The soccer games you never saw, And the moments spent in a room With just her and her toys

Promises unfurl from your lips, Only to wither In the instant they have blossomed. You mean what you say to me, But words cannot alter the fact that the tide has stripped you of your mobility, Thrashed against your will, And left nothing But a seashell enveloped in foam. Your oaths won't taunt The bitterness that entombs you, Or remove the nails that tack you down, So don't waste time with the routine Of your childish make-believe.