The Chamber of Salt
The walls are white, with endless grain.
The air is dry, it burns the lungs.
The floor is sharp, with crystal teeth.
The chamber waits, with hollow thirst.
The door is locked, no key is known.
The silence hums, it splits the tongue.
Your skin will crack, your lips will bleed.
The chamber feeds, on thirst alone.
The salt will rise, it blinds the eyes.
It coats the throat, it seals the breath.
It climbs the veins, it fills the blood.
The heart will slow, the body stiffen.
And when at last, the chamber sleeps.
Your bones are white, your soul is gone.
The salt remains, it tells the tale.
The chamber keeps, what thirst has claimed.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
This one kind of me thirsty just reading. Good job.