Rickety wood long bent from hard pressed values
Sticky fingerprints left to rot for decades
crying past in time linked to bodies of the fallen
dragging through space relentlessly.
Exhaled breaths attempt to expel pungent memories
yet tendrils refuse to unravel; locked in crystalline structure
woven by bleeding fingers
torn from years of mistakes
and singed by the flames of others.
Between the crevices lurk little dreams,
throbbing from fear of darkness,
having long since fallen from unzipped pockets
not noticed when left behind
to freeze as seasons turn.
They weep in sorrow
forever burned by frostbite
shivering in an eternity
beneath the old wooden bench
stained from what people left behind.