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Prickled, inky,
shocks and horrors,
marr hidden,
harsh words, unsaid,
they shape,
sharp, stinging tongues,
and teeth-like coral,
that make, uncomfortable,
speech, pronged,
on the long,
forsaken murk,
of a conversation’s;
lost seabed.

Final sands, roll off,
the foamy surf,
like an ash’s bittersweet,
laughter at a Phoenix birth.
Down, from rippled flight,
in mislain earth,
tragedy’s fallen teardrops
are found; in unheld mirth.

© poormansdreams

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