We're vagrant hearts and bruised souls.
Our veins are woven
into discolored skin,
pale and iridescent
in the sunlight.
The starbursts of the twinkling sky
smile with white fire,
and they singe their own vicinity,
burning for a thousand years.
We're tattered limbs
and vanquished hope
sinking gasping, grasping
each other with desperate hands.
And drowning.
We're drowning in mist,
unraveling into shreds.
Our satin blue eyes
are losing their fluorescence
fading into transparency.
Our stitches snip
and we're tearing down into ribbons,
our fragile bones
breaking into glass fragments.
We're scarring each other
with our broken edges.
And shattered.
We're lying shattered
on sunburnt snow,
lit on ice,
reflecting a frost
that reverberates us with frigidity
I refuse to seep through.
We're broken nuummite hands,
desperately trying to touch someone
with numb fingers.
And opaque.
We're opaque and slashed
with unknown colors.
We're almost alive in their hues.
We're ghosts lingering without eyes
because we lost our destination
in last millennium's landslide.
And crying.
We're crying with tears
that seem so much like anguish.
We're blasting through emptiness,
dropping upon nightmares.
Losing the light in an indestructible tornado.
And torn.
We're torn with ripped capillaries,
with dead stars sewed into my lungs
and they're full of ash
and I swear,
I swear I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.  
I don't know about you
but you seem so much like lifeless.
A lost piece of you
sunk to the bottom
and buried in dust,
a lost piece that was your heart.
And how could you be alive
without a heart?
I wonder if I'm scattered
across this ocean floor
seeing you through fissured irises,
A distorted ray of sunlight
I can no longer touch.
A numb frame I can no longer
call my own.
I'm no longer alive.