Sandpaper Skin

 Abandoned by days last light
A castle wakes at the top of the hill   
The cloak of darkness a sinister sight 

Wrapped in linen and dove white 

Upon a ledge of dusk and sighs

I crawl across,

The strength of my bones 

Merely an outline of self

I swallow hard the lump in my throat 

My tongue of razor edge – 

Seeping and percolating 

Sandpaper skin

Baring down on plighted throne 

Of nettle and spike 

A thorn in my heart, 

My hands harvest the lines of a jagged path

Time, left me here to haunt


My silhouette now guards the fort.