/lit/ - Literature

On that day,
tears seeped out of your eyes
like burning honey.
Your spin was an orbit
around a burning star.
On that day,
the chalk white dusty dress
you wore
carved you out along the
windy cliffs.
The sea below became a pool,
a phosphorescent waiting pool.
On that day,
you slipped through the
eye of the earth.
And you know that's a long
long way to run away from home.
It never has been the same
since you left us.

We saw
cupboards of dry rotten wood,
chalk white dusty dresses,
chipped teapots on the table.
The rooms were well lit
and the air was empty.
The ground was bubbling
with rain, remember
how hard it fell?
And what was it that
our mother told us then?
That you never can tell.