The Ferryman’s Muse
Staring death in the face.
When are you going to come for me?
When am i going to run to you?
Like star-crossed lovers re-writing cliff and sea,
I jump to meet you or you rise to me.
I try to cut you, or you separate me?
I try to bury you and your graveyard dances like sugar plum fairies all through my head.
I drift off to sleep with you, or you... Read Moresneak over me like a coma.
You are final, black, terrifying, elusive, alluring, enticing.
I drain myself to meet your rising waters.
I loved you much more before I ate the seeds on this green, sunny land.
And now I dread the trek to the ashy, grey wasteland of your beautiful fury.
For the roots that I planted would miss their flower.
And I am stuck like the ferryman's muse...
Always back and forth to this dark place.