Buried Bones

Fränz Müller

There’s an unmarked grave

inside my heart

for the joy I used to feel;

wrapped in linen

just the bones remain

of what once seemed so real.

I guess I should

have sensed the knife

before it found its mark;

I now contend

with such an end

and the snuffing of that spark.

And so I haunt

your waking dreams

and rattle all my chains;

you never shall

erase my mark

and hide these cold remains!

Comments +

Comments3

  • sorenbarrett

    This poem speaks metaphorically of the mark a dead relationship leaves. Nicely written

  • Friendship

    Great written

  • Tristan Robert Lange

    Fränz, I’ve felt that same delayed ache…not seeing the knife until after it’s already found its mark. There’s something so honest about admitting the wound came before the understanding of it. You captured that so well. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦‍⬛



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