Death hangs over me
like storm clouds
I am mere bones
feigning to be whole
If you look closely
you can see
my skeletal sockets
where blue eyes
once shined–now empty
lifeless, no beauty
See these arms?
Trace each scar
feel each vein, deaden
I’ve leeched
blood too often
no pulse
And this battered heart?
A fisted stone, hardened
by years of love lost
beats became stillness
even you cannot spark
a rapid response
no currents
I am dead
reduced to bones
bury me
and bid me rest!
©January 2016 Lori Burks
A Whispered Wind 
Glad to hear your not in such a dark place. Easy enough to slip into those corners of our minds/ existence where such darkness thrives.
“I have my dark places,” she said, “after all I live in a darkened house.”
I still slip there now and again, but it is less frequently than before.. I think we all have our dark sides… enjoy your darkened house 🙂
So bleak and somber. A lost soul. Sadness.
“Your words are like the nails on the coffin — heavy, connecting life and death. You tell the tale well.”
Thank you 🙂 I was in a dark place when I wrote that poem.. much better now though 🙂