wait,
the last feel of your touch
has been devoured by maggots
it's skeletal,
lonesome
in a grave of oblivion
wait,
the last words you spoke
have frozen
sculptured into a knife
that cuts my soul into smithereens
I used to indulge in the pain
It was a welcome refuge
wait,
what are are waiting for?
I am waiting for the sun to freeze this dawn
once again
and make a sculpture of all your memory
a knife of sorts
to cut me all over again
for I am whole
No comments:
Post a Comment