The Serulian

Words dry as dust fall

 from dessicated lips,

torn from a bone arid heart:

sucked/ drained/ bled/ wept,

a desert of sand

 worn from the crushed

 shells of dreams,

crumbled.

Words thick as treacle stick

 upon a cloying tongue,

dredged from a chest clogged

 with despair:

syruped/ honeyed/ spun sugar,

craving shards of honesty,

coated in lies,

ambered

 for posterity,

glued to the tormentor.

Words blunt

 as a mallet,

wielded with precision,

the sculptor’s tool:

chip/ chip/ chip

Whiplash words

sting crimson cheeks:

slap/ batter/ stun.

Razor edged words 

cut a chill

 through hearth’s gathering

shave away

 friendship,

leave curls

 of withered flesh,

slice veins,

slash the tether,

spill the last word.

Heather is a sight-impaired spoonie and emerging working-class writer from Yorkshire. Her work has been published by: Reflex Press, Pure Slush, Mono, A Coup of Owls, Free Flash Fiction and others. She has been nominated for Best of the Net. Find her at https://haigh19c.wixsite.com/heatherbooknook. Twitter: @HeatherBookNook, Instagram @HeatherBookNook.