Blindfolded In Darkness

Slumber waits and stills when she pleads to it. Outside she finds the grass has died, The water dried, The night dark.
She knows how to look for one, But doesn't know what it was. Someone pulsing through the lingering branches of something long forgotten or let go, Standing there, A figure in a mist almost. Too much not known. And then the corner poisons spreads.
Darkness sinks in, Heart sinks low brushing the ground Becomes bruised. She wonders through, And doesn't expect, Does not suspect That she sleeps under dead willows
With an old blindfold on.
A gift no doubt, of stories told. A man once had. His hand holding, tying the knot, a final wish. And down she fell, into itched earthen hole. Once was a part and now singing through torn flesh and tainted ground.
Dark red like blood pools about, filling the sea with crimson and stains the shore as sticky sand. Silent are those who wear their blindfold to never speak of what they see.
A silent, blinded night.