Heavy down suffocates the air,
a soft snow carpet on the floor,
stark white against stark skin,
heavy echoes of heavy doors.
Death is found in the silence,
death of love, death of heart,
that swollen feeling in the chest,
of being ripped apart.
And of blood dipped feathers,
and blossoming bruises,
lilac and midnight blue fingers,
wrapping her neck like nooses
and-
her heart falling like a feather,
before shattering like glass,
death of trust, of faith above all,
a million apologies won't fix the past.