I sit
perched atop high and empty balconies,
these falsities, growing like mold, catching like crystal
on eyelashes heavy and old.

Heavy and old,
heavy and cold,
I loved once, I should be able to again
but my heart catches in my throat

and the cannibal takes a bite,
hungried flesh falling from the skeleton that is myself.
Everything is cold and with cold comes numbness,
an even worse pain.

When you're numb you can't feel the warmth
of summer rising,
her feathered hair following the migration of birds
coming home, home, home.

Her sinner skin burned and gold,
enticing you to feel, to breathe,
against god's wishes, against mine,
to cling to a life you're not living.

A dissected corpse picked apart
to my very atoms,
by the vultures feeding themselves
off my already ended life.

"Live, even if it's for everybody else."