Your image in my eye
dries and dies;
what could live in this desert place of mine?
One day you’ll have the death of me
splattered all over your stark-white shirt
the most soft and tender breath
could be lost on your face.
-She’s sitting between crumbled sheets,
bones squeaking like a cat;
the illusion of happiness-
I could never stitch you back
head and heart and limbs together
properly joined-
it would take more than my life
to make you whole again.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 4:29 AM UTC
Your image in my eye
dries and dies;
what could live in this desert place of mine?
One day you’ll have the death of me
splattered all over your stark-white shirt
the most soft and tender breath
could be lost on your face.
-She’s sitting between crumbled sheets,
bones squeaking like a cat;
the illusion of happiness-
I could never stitch you back
head and heart and limbs together
properly joined-
it would take more than my life
to make you whole again.
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