I have your name etched
on my skin, its lines and curves
and slants edged in rich, deep black.
I carry your face
in my memory, nestled
like a flash of bright white light
saves the sameness of a
dark spring night.
Your name is a call
and echo, one that I murmur
like the repeating melody
of a descant; the twang of
a bow’s string reverberating
in the stillness of the valley air,
the thud of an arrow steered unerringly
as it rips into a doe’s ribcage.
Between here and there is a
road to nowhere, to build they say
one must first tear down,
For life, a Dying first.
For the NaPoWriMo Day 4 prompt; a poem about Love or Lovelessness that doesn’t include the word LOVE itself.