silence
Yellow and orange in the bones The red that grows, A deafening silence From the crows. The tongue that crumbles Under the rumbles of floors I no longer desire To carry brave bones My words sprout out like vines. Each with a few broken twines Dying slow Like old wine. Love blossoms. Yet it leaves its marks. Is love only enduring? The harsh and the dark? Why do words cut deeper than a sword? I no longer desire my truth. All it leaves is bareness and bruises. Every confession empties me more. Even if I was the right one This blame game He said, she said. Why am I left being the sick one? All the wrong I ever did Must I only repay the sins? Like a rat going on a hunt I am prey to the words. If I say I am the bad one. If I don't I am still undone. Love is blind. but not to the wound of words. Love is not for me. I am only a corpse. nodding to every question. So I keep swallowing these bitter seeds. Hoping they don’t grow back as weeds But the silence of the coils arou...