…days of thorns

Days of petals, days of thorns
yesterday echoes and whispers
in the vast voids that fall between
the paths of broken glass and jagged thoughts
where the raven calls from the primordial moonless night
my pen is bleeding again, I cannot stem the flow
the pain, exquisite imbues my words
with unspoken secrets and unsung songs
once buried in the long cold ashes
in the darkest corners of my broken heart
my melancholy fills the emptiness
and the silken strands of absence
shift and settle in the shapeless silence
sorrow is a sea without a shore
suspended in time and veiled in mists
that circle me endlessly
the haunting wind is whispering
as it brushes against my skin
and I find myself weeping as the bell begins to toll
my ink is flowing away like the ebbing tide
I can only love you now from afar
embers of hope forever suspended in time
the raven calls from the primordial moonless night
the distance between us is slowly unfurling
in the vast voids that fall between
yesterday echoes and whispers
days of petals, days of thorns
© Ann Bagnall