freckles made of ashes

ashes swaying to the ground
dusty fingerprints
decorating these empty walls

follow them outside
for this house was built to collapse

garden of white feathers
angels fought bravely
but hopeless was a cause
faith has already chosen a path for

the earth rumbles and growls
for it wishes to swallow the painful scenery
but even the greatest giants of destruction
fear it’s poison
so it shivers instead

you lie there among the pale grey and white
counting dusty freckles on my skin
our hands anchor me to this place

why won’t you run?
why won’t you leave me?