hands, smooth as silk,
cool against my feverish flesh
face, pale as ivory,
shining bright in the moonlight
tongue, heavy as lead,
the .38 bullet piercing my chest
eyes, blue as the feeling
trying to think about the long forgotten
but what happens when the dead
rise in forever lasting song?
oh, what happens to us, the dead,
when we go where we belong?
let me show you
and we shall never again be apart.
YOU ARE READING
marble and quicksand - a poem collection.
Randomoriginal poetry by me. . . . . TW: depression, sa, suicide, food, dysphoria, selfharm
