post mortem feeling (poetry)

those three words
a gift or a curse
so ripe with meaning
yet they mean nothing at all

spectral hands climb from the grave
dirt underneath their fingernails
lips contorted in a silent scream
from all the thoughts I cannot voice

how can I put them back to rest
(should I?)
am I destined to be forever haunted
by words that never translate into action


Discover more from hopeful mistwalker

Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.


Leave a comment