At my wake, I repossess what is dead to what is dead
and in your name—I conspire against myself
I am where the unspoken words go to become skeletons
The soil at my grave is misarranged
the thorns erect from my bones
guilty of life,
defiled by duty,
My life was solidified ash
now the discord alludes to my salvation
I have lost my tongue to silence
I have lost my tongue to your tongue
I have always been a bit tense about my throat
so I pass around my decaying hand
and ask for them to feed me the ash that escapes my flesh
I wanted to come back to life but
I feared revival,
I feared love,
now I’m left here to fear God
Milo Hove is an avid reader and writer who is currently pursuing her degree in
Accounting. Her words aim to illuminate the depths of vulnerability and explore the
essence of existence, with themes of love, loss and death. Through her poetry, she
invites readers on a journey of introspection and discovery, weaving emotions into
lyrical tapestries that resonate with the soul. In addition to writing poetry, Milo is also
an advocate for mental health awareness and self-expression through various art
forms. Through her poetry, she creates a space for one’s truth, healing and
reflection.
Comments are closed.
Simply beautiful