Jump to content
Attention, CICADA community!
  • It’s time to say goodbye—the community at cicadamag.com is now closed. Learn more...

Recommended Posts

let my walls crumble

even if I am tossed beneath the columns

the rubble of what I was once constructed of

the remains of my potential,

all my what-ifs and coulds and shoulds

red-smeared marble is impure

crumpled; unnatural in texture

corinthian carvings etched onto my skull

for now I see through the glass darkly

and commaless phrases only add

my dearest

to my destruction of structure

the demolition of myself from the inside

daggers wedged below my skin since childhood

cloaked phrases swim below the surface

there is beauty

in destruction in pain in ruins

no candles to light the way to the top

sparks must come from somewhere else

one by night

two by water

maybe the sparks have died

when they touch the ground

dew-coated grass smothering the

small infinity of an explosion

my walls will fall from within

  • Like 1
  • Love! 1

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Sign in to follow this