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flowerdustPoems
spoken against the window pane, your breath, like flapping shingles of a roof in agony. and, tethered there in your hands, inorganic flesh, spews from open fingers - curdled, rotten. you couldn’t look. you couldn’t look. this room is a cemetery. this room holds only the dead. in a brief moment, the glass clears, the fog has lifted. outside, bodies of decomposing trees string their arms through the hairs of a setting sun, and he, he looks up at you with open eyes as the faucet drips, the pipes creak, the kettle, softens your futile screams with a thermal hiss. how unbecoming of this boy, exposing his insides with a lifeless heart in his chest.
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Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
your mouth, filled with his entrails
spoken against the window pane, your breath, like flapping shingles of a roof in agony. and, tethered there in your hands, inorganic flesh, spews from open fingers - curdled, rotten. you couldn’t look. you couldn’t look. this room is a cemetery. this room holds only the dead. in a brief moment, the glass clears, the fog has lifted. outside, bodies of decomposing trees string their arms through the hairs of a setting sun, and he, he looks up at you with open eyes as the faucet drips, the pipes creak, the kettle, softens your futile screams with a thermal hiss. how unbecoming of this boy, exposing his insides with a lifeless heart in his chest.
#death#loss#dark#haunting#sin#regret#fiction
flowerdust
Written by
flowerdust
23/F
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
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