What shall
we tell them?
I have left diamonds
where her eyes were,
have left a strawberry
where once
her kissable lips
pouted.
There is a half moon
in the night sky,
stars flick off and on
as if some madman
flicked a switch
on and off.
What shall
we tell them?
There is a hollow
where once her heart
was pumping away
in its organic way
just yesterday.
Anima foramen,
that gulf between
love and hate,
indifference
and wanting it to last,
when it has died
in a coughing fit
of laughter.
Where is
your heart?
Where your soul?
We shall tell
them nothing,
they shall know
nothing of that loss,
that hole where
your heart was,
that hollow ring
along the chambers
of your veins,
like echoes of laughter
down dark country lanes.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 9:23 AM UTC
What shall
we tell them?
I have left diamonds
where her eyes were,
have left a strawberry
where once
her kissable lips
pouted.
There is a half moon
in the night sky,
stars flick off and on
as if some madman
flicked a switch
on and off.
What shall
we tell them?
There is a hollow
where once her heart
was pumping away
in its organic way
just yesterday.
Anima foramen,
that gulf between
love and hate,
indifference
and wanting it to last,
when it has died
in a coughing fit
of laughter.
Where is
your heart?
Where your soul?
We shall tell
them nothing,
they shall know
nothing of that loss,
that hole where
your heart was,
that hollow ring
along the chambers
of your veins,
like echoes of laughter
down dark country lanes.
