Posted: February 25, 2017 in Melancholia
Tags: , , ,

Painful throes rise and crash against her skin

as her breath shudders, stutters and rhymes

jaundiced eyes struggle to stay awake as she holds

my hands in a grip, firm but yet loose

a contrast of palms. Irony in five fingers

I feel her pulse, slowly fading to  dust
I peel open her skin, dive into her bones

Almost drown but then reach out to her veins

I taste the layers so tender and torn, she tilts at my touch

A battle rages white and then red. No bad blood yet

I lose myself to the currents, the painful tides

Of a war that is everything but won
Half drunk on her bones, I break open her marrow

The hollow is deafening, the imagery is vivid

Rogue leucocytes murder erythrocytes before my eyes

The rebellion of cells, a ruthless crusade

An avalanche of pain, the invasion of blasts

A white knight sworn to protect through the night
I wade through her marrow and discover a rose

Mottled, wilted and dying for breath

Petals hold songs that could have been

Songs are just words without rhythm

Words are letters absent meaning

Letters are lines seeking purpose

Lines are lonely and lost

Lonely is she

on the EKG

  1. Dorian says:

    You started blogging again, Efe.

    My body is ready for all the amazing poetry. 💕


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