Come closer dear Death.
I'm here raw,
bruise is open and lungs are sore.
eyes dilate like a bursting bomb,
as if fear itself fumigates,
combusting, flaring,
seeping inward
without vow
from fumes
to wounds.
I shall row to the ocean
of my regrets,
sulken, and grieving
of the times
wasted
into bins.
To the kisses
I ****** couldn't--
To the hugs
I've chosen not to--
May all be merry
when I'm gone.
and realize
how lone
you shouldn't
be.
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 9:55 PM UTC
Come closer dear Death.
I'm here raw,
bruise is open and lungs are sore.
eyes dilate like a bursting bomb,
as if fear itself fumigates,
combusting, flaring,
seeping inward
without vow
from fumes
to wounds.
I shall row to the ocean
of my regrets,
sulken, and grieving
of the times
wasted
into bins.
To the kisses
I ****** couldn't--
To the hugs
I've chosen not to--
May all be merry
when I'm gone.
and realize
how lone
you shouldn't
be.
