My dove was right:
A dove’s blood
had to be spilled at the open window.
Your stiffened body,
a memory treasured for what it was.
Cracking of a spine,
a last deep breath out of your little lungs,
tongue dried up.
I was pulling his tongue for weeks now,
for you to interrupt,
holding onto his trench coat
and the smell of lentil soup.
"Please like me", I yelled,
and his silence yelled back
at me.
And if it had been up to you,
it would have been less
of a mess, and I thank you for that, my dove.
A life for a life:
My dove was right.
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 3:33 PM UTC
My dove was right:
A dove’s blood
had to be spilled at the open window.
Your stiffened body,
a memory treasured for what it was.
Cracking of a spine,
a last deep breath out of your little lungs,
tongue dried up.
I was pulling his tongue for weeks now,
for you to interrupt,
holding onto his trench coat
and the smell of lentil soup.
"Please like me", I yelled,
and his silence yelled back
at me.
And if it had been up to you,
it would have been less
of a mess, and I thank you for that, my dove.
A life for a life:
My dove was right.
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