Purging

Crunch, crunch, crunch,

the soft trembling of leaves splitting beneath my steps

mimics the tearing of my arteries.

A voice forms,

whispers in the wind—

whining and warning of the transition to come.

Heat rushes against my frost-bitten cheeks,

hands sweeping over the fading life of the nature around me.

I will them back to life,

unsuccessful to my dismay.

Prayers to the unholy one—

undoing death in a time of evolution.

Gasoline seeps from my fingertips,

replaces the honey that once flowed through my veins

it is something that cannot be reconstructed.

The remaining sweet liquid rests in

the honeycombs of my heart—

I won’t let it go.