x ~ Heaven ~ x

Her leaves drift as they whisper.

They wheedle my name

A new hiss and stain

And weave my blade

Across their cumbrous plain.

I sleep soundly in their snare . . .

Before she breathes their names

And claims my fame.

…Her tree reeks.

It's signed by my blade.

It's signed by my stain.

". . . Heaven . . . "

She calls it.

". . . Hell . . ."

I fall for it.


Author's Note: I don't know why, but I wrote this randomly. o.o I felt very compelled to write something like this after I watched 'The Lovely Bones'. The name of the poem seemed to haunt me until I wrote something down on paper. Scary, I know...Thank God for October.