There are poems of love I will now never finish

Singing nothings that are now nothingness.

You did this, you killed them, you stole out their flame

Now silence must pay back the debt of this pain.

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there is now a song

it sings in tones of spider-thread

it wanders up and down the Pain…

The song is caught in a timeless place,

where the hurting worsened ’til it grew a face;

and the face is blank and its eyes are dead;

& wilted blossoms frame the head;

beautiful, but also gone.

just like us.

i wrote us a song.

´╗┐Achilles heel

We almost fell apart that night
Because I was a snarling mess
We didn’t know it then, but
The exhaustion inside me was dancing a snare into effect

You pushed the food closer, I sat on the floor
“Baby, please eat, you need it more
Than you think”
You did not sound strong and reassuring and heroic
You sounded vulnerable and weak

Because you were,
Because I was.

I am your open wound.

Burning free

I cannot speak for the cache of blood

Behind my throat and voice 

I cannot breathe for the hissing flood

Of death within my flesh. 
I am covered now in slate, and bitterness, and sin

I rip with ragged nails at all the ways I’m imprisoned

Ice chips, with frost, have covered all

The life I used to live. 

Please set me free with fire; I

Must bleed

Where now I petrify.