Memories Of The Waves Poem by amber maria moon

Borrowed me?
Took my sleepy hand and dragged me down,
To the sea, below the sound and the rush,
If you did, it was a good plan,
Better than my own.

And, did you guess that you'd take back the nice things that were said
Replace them, with horrific things you did.

Cold pulse. burning breath.
I never saw your face, through the mask,
all the recognition from
When you looked in the mirror and noticed it gone.

Innocence and sweet incomprehension,
Covered now with fiery snow, blood
Flakes of skin peeling.
like a heart
Pricked with white.
Veiled with memories of stone, in heads strong sight.