reikon/i (senbonzakura)

winter into a soft autumn
as the tree-stump held me
as the sun began to sink
i picked the sakura
and perhaps that same slow susurrus
will whisper me away

i will not be here to watch them fall.
i will rest on the edges of the (whirlwind/riptide)
as they separate and scatter,

senbonzakura.

my heart aches and is dragged down
potential seeping into my itching bones
potential gnawing my fingernails down to the quick
potential buzzing behind my eyes

the icy lines are splintering
they are blue and grey and
reflect bright when the sun hits them
they sink down into my (reikon)
they tell you so many things and
when (i/kon) leave them they will scatter


senbonzakura.

my fingertips are dusty.

my feet are calloused and worn,
the left aches -
same slow beat as my heart -
the whisper of blood in my ears -

and when the (whirlwind/riptide)
pulls me back upwards
the oceanrain will leave my flesh full
spin and drag and heave me back upwards
just to spit me out, wet and broken
i will not hear myself hit the [sakura/reikon/chi]
for the blood surging:


spill and scatterstain,



senbonzakura