Every word was a chisel strike
This will be my end

Because I saw
I saw the cracks emerge
Wiry and askew like Death's hands
I saw my pieces fall
Dust was heavy on my back
I saw the hammer strike
Earthquakes of organs that skin can't contain

Then I heard
I heard adoration of a work of art
Created with a master's touch
I heard compliments and praise
The most beautiful things never ask to be seen
I heard words unsaid
Tears and silence are languages we're fluent in, but scared to speak

There are stories in your eyes.

I never told you how
sometimes I fell asleep
with the thought that you
were perhaps the moon-

always disappearing
with the dawn.