(no subject)

[epilepticshiver]

you were never the grapes
that grew in straits along the vineyard
you were never the soil
fastening their stems unto the earth
you were never the air
all your light and flighty thoughts considered
and you were never the rain
which, even in pain of death created birth

I didn't have to crush your chest
burst your skin and grind it fine
I didn't have to spill your blood
into my barrel to make wine
but it happened anyway in it's time
I did it anyway in time

I'll bury the embers
of a flame now deemed useless
gray ash underneath iron wheel
and I'll bury her sadness
in the same dirt that calls her
rich in things which good men lack

I'll tie her a ribbon
if her balance does falter
taut from crooked heel to heel
and I'll bury your bonnet
in the spine of a soldier
if he so dare bare you his back

and all the dancing satyrs must be lonely
with none to play their shallow games
but none of these walls ever spoke homely
things unto my smallish frame