It was real
It was cold
So cold
I could feel the dirt in my bones
It was cold
As cold as California gets anyway
And the night had passed
Like an old friend
From fire and cancer
And even the morning
Was having trouble waking up
Wiping the the grime
Yeah, I remember
It was real
And as I felt for the life
With in my chest
I began to bury those
Memories that we
Would never want
To reflect upon
Not anymore
Not ever
But… they were there
As ugly as a feral dog
With heavy mange…
but … not you…
You… were grace.
I … still feel lost I guess
Feel it all
Yet nothing is there.
Did I clean up
The bleeding memories
Clean out the kitchen
Full of rusted knives
I’ll be honest when I say
And reflect upon those days…
I never thought I …
Would be here …
Not now
… not any longer
… not for long.
So mote it be.
The House of Raven 🐦⬛ 