Birth of a Zombie
It was there, beyond the oak
upon the twisted path
made dangerous by thorns, quicksand
and the watching eyes of blackness
that I found the first quiet

there, the voices were silent
muted by the fear
of an evil far greater than theirs
No longer they tormented me
their echoing laughter diminished

and it was upon that path
that the mist took me
consumed me
prolonging my peace
eternally

Your Hands
rough, calloused
trembling aspen
with strong veins

imperfectly perfect
gliding over mine
without hesitation
i can feel your fear
and courage

how could I not smile?
your naked hands wrapped around mine
radiating warmth
without cloth to trap
the heat most hide behind

I want you to remove my gloves.

The above poetry is property of Jennifer Neal. Did you enjoy it? Check out more of her poems.

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