Measured words, calm and heartless. Your tone never wavered from flatline apathy. Heatless, heartless, chilled and dead Each syllable a dull thump on the coffin nail And a shovelful of dirt on the mute lid. Reaching back, I can remember the days when Touching my mind was the sole delight of yours. I realize, of course, it's all my fault. The Scythe that severs all is of my own whetting. Do you think back on the days of rose glass and green, when Every moment was a glowing spark of life? I think, and feel, And know what I have crushed beneath my weight of being, flesh too Dense and numb to feel myself, my life, extinguish.
All text and images are copywritten by their respective creators
and are not to be used without express written consent.