If I Die In The Mourning

Life spilled out like unspent tears
watering a desert of
dried up promises
scattered like sand
on an ocean floor
absent water
and mist
to
quench
love's
thirst.

Left shrivled up and parched in
the bright sun of expectation
that the perfect
shell would
open up like
an oyster
waiting
for the pearl
to drop.

Lying on the bottom of the
pebbled walk
stepped on
like shards of brilliant
glass clouded by
the wetness of
blood poured
out.

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