Read Between the Limes

You are cracked and chipped,

damaged from the wars of others.

Scuffed and worn yet you remain.

Wounded warriors stagger

to your feet in the midst

of the castle siege and rest.

The others are crumbling

to their knees all around,

so they lean.

The caving ceiling pushes down

on your head, rolls down your neck

and onto your shoulders.

Clinging to your legs, acid tears slowly

dissolve away your strength.

You’ll never shake them away,

only suffer in resentful silence,

growing weaker with each passing hour.

Like a sea cliff you will attempt to stand

in the ocean’s way.

But the patient waters will carve at your

sides until you are reduced to dust. 

The enemy onslaught will cut through

your core and you will snap. Your

broken body will crush everything around you.

With every little disturbance, a disease of cracks spread

across your body;

long fingers reach every nerve.

Regretful words spew like splattering magma.

You will apologize later, but the scorch marks could be permanent.

Next to you, she is pleading for you to rest against her.

Her polished body stands flawless and unbroken.

As tiny pieces of you are falling on the floor you lean.

The moment your skin touches, some of the fingers

retract from you and point to her. But neither of you will move.