is hidden in the lungs of a lover
who lost himself
in the war of keeping his love;
in his tears yet to stream his cheeks,
over the carcass of the only dead soldier
that is his own heart.
And the coldest, most macabre ******
lies between the partition of the lips
of the one who left-- willingly.
No good-byes.
No apologies.
Just plain frigid fingers
that smell like heartbreak.
This is the epic unwritten in history,
unseen in televised documentaries;
partly because of its gruesome morbidity,
and partly of its awful simplicity.
A traceless killing:
no blood,
no stains,
no weapons,
just lies.
Seamless all from the start--
just one mangled heart.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC
is hidden in the lungs of a lover
who lost himself
in the war of keeping his love;
in his tears yet to stream his cheeks,
over the carcass of the only dead soldier
that is his own heart.
And the coldest, most macabre ******
lies between the partition of the lips
of the one who left-- willingly.
No good-byes.
No apologies.
Just plain frigid fingers
that smell like heartbreak.
This is the epic unwritten in history,
unseen in televised documentaries;
partly because of its gruesome morbidity,
and partly of its awful simplicity.
A traceless killing:
no blood,
no stains,
no weapons,
just lies.
Seamless all from the start--
just one mangled heart.
