in the void encompassing all that
;now left undefined;
and that hole is endless.
filled not by an infinity of rhyming nouns
nor the bold vocabulary
of her mighty collection of rotting tongues
that abyss begs for blood
and will take her
when her throat is dry and caked with mud
spoons cracking weakened teeth
no longer clenching around bright sparks that were
in the run-on sentences of life.
and when that love that kept her awake was
leaving no silence in its wake;
it became so very
she began to clip the crickets’ wings
and tie all the blue birds' beaks
and muffle every desperate sigh
that weighs so heavily on every weary step.
she knows the abyss is coming
to the feast.
and she knows
so to say goodbye
she thread her last shred of sanity through a needle head
and sewed her mouth shut;
The quiet was quite nice.