Beneath the flesh
Migrating between bones
Little secret keepers
Crawl under tones.
Vultures spit out bitter hopes,
Savoring scraps of desperation.
Beads scatter like rats
Across blood-stained gravestones.
Regrets pour from the living,
Seeping into the soil.
Death grows here.
Melissa Gill studies journalism at UNLV. Crafting poetry and stories is her favorite kind of magic. Some of her literary heroes are Stephen King, Edgar Allan Poe, and J.R.R. Tolkien.