I scrape the dirt out from beneath my finger nails,
as I walk away from your unmarked grave.

My nostrils flare.

My lungs ignite.

With the dark air belonging to this fissured state,
Never to be tainted by the sun’s rays.

I take a sip of my unsophisticated elixir
Shrouding my footprints with a self-cultured haze.

Fog lurking over my path
seeping in and out of the indents where my foot just passed,
to protect my mind from recalling the trail
back to the dark place where you now lay.

In soul, veiled from thought.

You’re my Sodom.

To Look,

I would become a pillar of bitter crystal.

So I forget the tracks,
I cut out the memory,
And I lose the time.

If or else

I do dare
To look back
I will see the blank X to where you are now a cold memory,

Far

Far

From me.