pine-swaddled river my body rests in damp silt and yours, down below
Dawn rises faster than the stones sink sunlight gleaming on your open eyes but the pines’ shade still concealing your form I let my words flow out and drift on the surface of the river, where they sink to the silt heavy from the weight of their sin
All encompassing, r e vol ting, insatiable sin it tears apart the pines behind me; they sink and dam the river with bark and silt draining the water, revealing those eyes of yours, frozen, the way they broke the surface carefully harboring them, carelessly ruining your form
And how unlike you, this form is this all some result of our sin? did you ask to slip beneath the surface? did you w an t to sink! I am sorry, I say to your eyes but this weight sticks to me, mud, muck, silt
And like stones, I can feel my feet slipping into silt snapping bones and twisting my form all the while, your cruel and glassy eyes judging my weakness and calling it my sin my bile rises as my body sinks and the mud drags me below the surface
I can look up and see the surface in my mouth, my lungs, I breathe the silt and I fear that the river where I made you sink is just as well your resting place as my form of reparation, this payment for sin committed under the gaze of none, the pines’ eyes
In the deepest dark, on blinded eyes I spot a different surface and waiting for me there, my sin as I am spit out by the ceiling of wet silt, I am a shadow self, a broken form, I am a rope and stone, ready to sink
See the unbidden tear exhumed from my silt, ripped to my surface To show for it, your broken form, still judging with those eyes And me, with the pines and sun, and stones waiting to sink, ready to sin
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