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.
