31 Days
Talk is simply not there for my uncertain body language, hard shouts recollect days of home as I contemplate the carnage, past memoirs speak like the tones of future cloudy weeks, they’re in ruins as I lay down the arms and pressure the leaks.
Nothing has given up such shocking views as I pass the river, armor and blood mix with the water which swirls into metallic silver, raise up your hands for you and I, cracks echo as frost gently falls from the sky.
Thunder stretches to the north as fires escape from the lighters, to and from the sun as cries of public applause thank the fighters, swirls of darkness bring me back to the snowy fall months, the mind weakens as bodies are packed into the trunks.
Did I see the gun which resembled you at last, counting of bones crushed between wheels powered by gas, something’s worth dying for as the eyes turn to the air, the snow melts as the ground becomes flooded with scares.
Boots damp as the dead stream sadly by infused with gears, I stand alone as bystanders wish a bullet would pass before my tears, employ yourself to accompany the haunting souls, whispers rush through the camps as my eyes reflect the coals.
Winter has come to bury the actions of my hardening deeds, You and I feel death as blood drips from my knees, the trail seems never ending as I stumble on, shadows of guns kiss trees as clouds forsake the dawn.
Living on as we crash down a slope of snow, distant tongues seem the same as footprints lead on the foe, within my heart I feel something calm and certain, I know the trees shall cover the view as I draw the last curtain.
You place the gun as I press upon the cold metal, snow is crushed as a bullet drops to be settled, I can’t get anymore sighs as memories relax inner frays, the winds are chilly as time seems longer than that thirty one days.
Clipped Letters Poetry 