Even my sighs
now sound rehearsed -
like a dehydrating
expression of something
I don't know.
I lay with no comfort
and no speech within my head.
A dead chest
filled with cold iron rods.
A thought disappears,
similar to my words
when I spew on my numbness.
My bones ache
with a stench of sadness.
I don't know.
________________
Bethany Louise Rose
6th June 2015
@ 1:39 am
