I do not walk on water

I do not walk on water

But wade through a glut

Of broken hearts.

The fabric of a soul

Laid bare

Trails in my wake

Seeking to leave

This rotting carcass

Before it becomes a corpse.

Hung from a frayed thread

The memory of golden times

Binds my wounds.

The flesh too putrid

To be saved.

The effort to remain intact,

In fact

Lies in tatters.

Skin shredded by repetition

As the constant flay

Of the heavy hand

Takes its toll

As fate sets its seal

On the vulnerable exposure

Of all weakness.

There is no respite

As the abrasion

And daily grind

Of life slowly

Wears me down.

The salt blood of sorrow

Fills my eyes,

As the last drop

Of hope is rinsed

Clean away

By an onrush

Of past forgetting

That threatens to absorb

All that remains

Of our dreams.