Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

The Dare

25 June 2013

The Dare


dressing shadows, which won’t stay in corners,

I count to one hundred without peeking

then spit, praying to avoid the mourners

whose red eyes find fear in ev’ry weakling.

In the thunderous silence, my heart beats,

my blood, pulsing through my veins, sounds too loud

dish out more adrenaline to my feet,

I’d rather not charm any ghosts again.

The dare, to run from the front to the back,

through messages, imagined and real,

moonlit soup obscures the obvious track.

and thousands of minutes pass, or so it feels.

But, somehow you survived, remember still,

that night, long ago, Cemetery Hill.


25 June, 2013 - Posted by | Poetry | ,

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