Pale One
I chased shooting stars like
they were a lifeline, floating
amongst the bitter murk
of a sky too far from my reach,
tree branches prickling my arms,
scraping pallid skin,
but I cannot slow,
sunrise must not touch me,
must not taint me.
My headstone, messy with moss,
a silhouette amongst the forgotten,
deviants unwelcome on holy ground,
buried where no mortal treads,
we lament together,
basking under starlights glow,
’til birdsong beckons,
and we sink below
to rotten coffins.
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