poetry 9/26 - 10/02

a sea of
crumpled, thin, wasting bodies
black tinging their limbs
the scent of burning flesh
one lies next to you at night
her,
yours.
limp, rotting arms
holding you as you sleep
the closeness that never ends
the cold reek of death
her dry paperlike skin
never to be lonely again

~

Based on a nightmare I had after visiting the Haunted Forest in American Fork on Saturday. 

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