Clouds poetry

Meet me at the g r a v e

She was incredulous

Looking at the letter in her hands

A letter in the mail box

Meet me at my grave when butterflies stop

Fluttering and bells stop dinging

You stand on top of your last chapter taking

A deep breath before you set a flight

To a world where no one knows your name–

Gold is no gold if it doesn't shines bright like

Diamond if doesn't makes you want to snap–

A rich man neck like rat traps,

Tell me something do you bathe in

Ink and spill on tables when no one is looking–

Meet me at the grave when letters learn to

Sing for themselves and dance to the beats of old

And new age, young and immature

Foot prints lead the way to someone we once

Know or thought we knew–

We was tricked and played by our own game

Stardust lies they looked and sound glamorous

But are candles, gasoline in the night that's waiting

And watching to set the world on fire

We are people that's waiting for a letter in the mail.

-ashes poetry