it is not me, but

we

of an abandoned sea

of billowing rose golds

and shimmering pools of moonlight

we

of ragged hearts, of ragged breaths

of ceaseless horizons

and willowed curiosities

we

of escaped minds, escaped thoughts

of fraudulent hearts

and errored nerves

we

of cancerous promises, of

rotten intent.

we

of

ugly

caskets

hounded by torn minds

and misplaced trust.