Indecision

your frail face a light atop the mire
a fugue forged from filaments upon the funeral pyre
pale callous fingers scrape along the cobwebs, comb
patterns with the vermilion vexes, harvest home
the fields forgotten by the winter keep
the valleys filled by your deluge deep

a cool caress finds a home within your wanting eyes
a token of your torso, where your indecision lies
today a pale flame masks the needs of connective fire
which calms the crematory ashes of your desire

what glare so icy as glacial gluttonous snow
sends specter chills upon my specter inner glow
bleeding down as inching icicles drip disdainful so
slow wrenching is the willow skin I’ve grown to know

Very intriguing verse.

Welcome, StillDays.

I really liked the last line.

Nice atmosphere there.