That Blood-Red Throne

You cleaved me open

And left my sun-bleached ribs


Across the shores of our youth.


There, by the sea,

I gathered sea glass with which to build my home –

And every glittering, skittering ray of light

Was a reflection of the darkness I bore within.


I built the foundation on an eon’s worth of driftwood,

Claiming the detritus of long-ago civilizations as my own,

Yet I am still waiting

For the day you’ll come storming back in

And set fire to my bone-dry flesh and blood home.


I tried you tell you;

I spoke unto you,

“My heart is not made of stone,”

But all you ever wanted

Was to sit on that blood-red throne.

This poem is about: 
My community


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