Hurt Bones II

No erases.
They're fragmented and wasted and wanting. and lost.
The sounds damage and the lights are glaring. Make them stop.
Releasing krakens and bat signals
Until he comes.

Salt stings through entirely, wills break down,
And solid ground tilts toward rushing foamy waves
Consuming hurt bones.
She wishes to leave them lying like broken sea glass,
The last of her washed up beauty refined to wanderers of
Sunset horizons.

Find her,
Where she is still serene and polished and wild when the wind pushes
Agony in like driftwood.
Folding around her incoherent figure in a ghostly wash.

Beckoning with his kingly grace during the golden hour he
Breaks the path with amusement at her determination to reach
A safe haven court.
Jester-fied, she breaks for the waves, dragging her anchor walls,
Wanting nothing but the trench to wrap its
Endless gravity around her salted torso.

His light never seems to wilt in the endless mist and her fingers
Grasp at the deep emptiness of the depressed night.
No peace in the watery silence.
No life with death on the wings of dark heroes.

Her cries stop short and pool at the bottom of her stomach
With the dead butterflies and a timeline of
Heartbeats.
Daisies in Summer.
Electric breathing.
Falling words.
Chasing love.

Never ready for the beginning much less the end.
Hurt Bones.