Reader in the Mountains

She sat on the edge of the wall Wrapped in the blanket of her own thoughts Tiny dewdrops on her shoulders From the thawing of her grieving heart Settled in the silent night like home Cuddling the phantoms around Away away away she flies And yet, sitting on the same mound Twisted amidst her painted toes Cry the hopes she has crushed Little moths of her mind Nibbling on her restless soul Storms raging inside her head Uprooting, demanding, destroying To jump or not to jump Let her numbness decide

My feet lay gently on the dried yellow leaves Carpets of yesterday's happy dreams Washed up ashore after a stormy night Carrying the dead and dying, all astride They crumple beneath my careful soles Sounds reverberate, all hearts in a fold Thunderous claps for the tiny blebs The dead, the dying, the unheard steps The bleak horror of the unfulfilled the unrequited and the deeply instilled The dried blades draw their mortal price My feet bleed blood, dreams and lies Scattered around the shore, they laugh As they split my blood, my soul to half I won't fall, I won't lose, I will walk again But the torments of the past lash on like rain The ashes inside my heart rage on The deep red flesh is now a darker stone The mighty roots, buried in earth's breast Grab my throat, to put me to rest Choke, they say, and do not resist Succumb, they say, you shall not exist The stone, the leaves, the roots - them all Once pieces of me, it...