Ashen

The air is whitest gauze.
It's dry as salt
And stretches to exhausted wisps
Of bone white strands.

Blood across the sand,
It's all a washed out sorrel,
My skin in pieces shredded,
Caught upon the rocks.

A man of many sorrows
Also met a liar
In a wilderness
Deceased.

I pull my body on and over.
She has the longest arms.

- 7/25/25

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