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 Feb 2017
Gidgette
I decay
The smell of my own rotting flesh,
Fills the stale air
Lips, that once graced softened skin are gone
Baring jagged teeth and exposed jaw bone
Ears, that so loved any melody,
Have long since turned to blackened jerky
I lay in this satin lined box,
Decaying,
My fingers, Are no more than fragments
of once workable things
Worms and maggots long ago,
devoured what little piece of heart you left me with
It's dark in here
And still
I don't rest
 Feb 2017
Logan Gabriel
Did you know?
I have vines growing around my ribs now.
A tree growing in my guts where I used to hold galaxies.
Churning stardust catching between teeth,
Painting my lips.
Seeping out of my skin and into the sink.

I am a book of metaphors and paradox.
I am nothing at all.
I speak you fair with a liars tongue,
All made of silver and moondust.
Easy words.

I am celestial,
And though your starstuff still makes me sick in the mornings,
Picking your shine from my teeth
All your refuse still inside me wretched into the sink.
Though my limbs are scarred with an effort to see my own galaxies
I am through obsessing over celestial souls.

Too many boys and girls with stars in their eyes
Or Saturn's rings around their fingers
Have caught me with lunar promises and magic fallen from careless lips
Like meteor showers.
I'm rid of my stars.

Now I've been planting flowers in my ribs
The vines mingle with a web of forget-me-nots and bleeding hearts
Lavender buds sprouting from old scars
I pass the 3 am itch off as them growing
Learn to ignore it.

— The End —