Mouths smelling like bodies

Of the blood drying inside of them

Their screams so silent

And pieces of their broken heart piercing their souls

Buried down, away in the dark

And the truth unable to rise before death sets them (or me) free

Lonesome tears on their cheeks

Like fingers caressing tattered journal pages

My body all wet from their juice

Thick fat tears burying the truth in a hollow tepid pool

Not even a glint of light shines through the pane

Blinding me to the tombstone

Being laid over my slowly receding heartbeat

-Smallee

 
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