The suffocation of yourself
leaves me to exhale
all the desires
to burn my heart
and leave this soul,
black.
Taunting death
with hallowed words
now lungs will never speak
the way I felt
~once~
in a dream
called life.
Calm solitude
of release,
that scarlet drains
would never bring;
but your whispered
existence
has soaked my being.
The clock is ticking
and all there is left to do
is breathe
but the mind has ways
of breaking concepts
with the eyes
of ceased,
purpose.
and darling,
it's true.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
~Pt
