Hibernal

Hibernal

The roots enwrap the bones with mercy, Lord, and mud slips down those tendrils and stains enamel brown. The worms curl through the sockets, Lord, where hatred lived, my love, where fear was pooled like pus. They’re tender, yes, they net the bones in filament, they draw me in so gently, yes, but oh: I want to crack, Lord, I want to burn.

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