Transcendence into the 7th circle
The emptiness a grave remembers when a funeral ends.
You looked into my eyes and promised me we would douse together.
Vanquish together.
You forgot about me
how deeply I cherished you.
How could you forget.
Im nothing left.
The crying of a violin in an empty vessel.
You deceived the entity out of me.
You writhed into my soul, quietly, but still, like the grim reaper lingering at my bed side.
The snake ingesting it’s own tail.
I can show you emptiness like you’ve never seen.
The hesitation to bear something.
Clever in hand, you painted my throat.
It spilled deeply, it spilled sweetly.
A cue to the abyss.
The return of the foul mouthed fool.
They whispered rot.
Their heads turned as they danced around my carcass.
They bathed in my blood, they felt rejoice.
I’ve been worn as a pelt.
I’ve been made a sap to the sickly.
The raven of death gorged my eyes.
The marbles that reflected my pain.
I was blind.
A blind sore stumbling over disparity.
I ruminated into sorrow.
I ripened death.
I married it in a vail of red.
Vows made in blood.
Rebirth.
This is what love feels like when the only person you cared about suddenly feels nothing.
