A shard of me is clawing at the void where you used to be,
screaming, shredded, terrified of losing the ghost of you.
Another piece, numb and hollowed, has already buried you
teetering on the edge of a blackened pendulum.
I stagger through my own chest,
torching circles in the cinder-pit of my ribs,
where grief blooms like gelatin rot,
oozing, viscous, swallowing my pulse.
Vultures with bone-white beaks tear at my soul,
picking apart the marrow of what’s left.
“Where the fuck are you?”
stabbing the repeat button on a broken signal,
hair follicles weeping oil and rejection,
slick with despair from a wound deeper than my gut,
a chasm where hope used to breathe.
they dangle a cruel flicker of you before me.
A shadow-hand chokes my fire,
snuffs it out in a hiss of smoke,
yet it roars hotter, hungrier,
and I was a cathedral of sin,
stained glass shattered under the weight of my own worship.
a razor-thin guillotine slicing through my veins,
cutting the pulse of that basement-dwelling bitch,
that venomous fucking witch who poisoned the tides,
who turned our stars to ash.
screaming into the cosmic maw
one more chance to fuck it up,
the laughter that cuts like broken glass,
gaslighting my own reflection,
blaming, shifting, grifting,
insanity hoisting my sanity like a lamb to the altar of a cruel sky.
humming ghosts of simpler days when we were friends.
But we’re better off severed,
two corpses swaying in a funeral waltz.
no one who can fill the you-shaped hole in my universe.
We’re the only truth that ever mattered.
Stop wondering if it’s real.
But you’re tangled in my delusions,
a cuckold crowned in my own paranoid thorns.
Pushing daisies from the gashes in your wrists,
not finish lines but exit wounds.
And you need this, don’t you?
I’ll never scream my worth again
you should know it by now,
but you trade your soul for another hit of hatred,
a whore in a waltz that feels so fucking right.
Slam that door in my face.
I deserve it for the words I spat,
the ones I never should’ve let crawl from my throat.
Maybe there’s no second chance to ruin it all.
I’d burn it all down for one last moment,
to be cradled in your arms,
where time folds into forever,
