Crushed roses spilt from your lips
All I could hear
All I could feel
All I could see
You were running into the twilight
Running away from the river I walked on
The silky poison that contained you burned as it slid down my throat like mercury
Your voice curdled into silent screams
That which a host of doctors would never hear
You clawed at the box
Pushing the walls away as they closed in around you
Four walls
Two doors
But only one way in
The saying I know you like the back of my hand has become meaningless to us
How well does anyone really know the back of their hand?
Butterfly wings flutter from your tongue
Their winter cocoons broken and torn on the forest floor
And blood like crushed roses spills from your lips
All I can see
All I can feel
All I can breathe
All I could hear
All I could feel
All I could see
You were running into the twilight
Running away from the river I walked on
The silky poison that contained you burned as it slid down my throat like mercury
Your voice curdled into silent screams
That which a host of doctors would never hear
You clawed at the box
Pushing the walls away as they closed in around you
Four walls
Two doors
But only one way in
The saying I know you like the back of my hand has become meaningless to us
How well does anyone really know the back of their hand?
Butterfly wings flutter from your tongue
Their winter cocoons broken and torn on the forest floor
And blood like crushed roses spills from your lips
All I can see
All I can feel
All I can breathe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
if pain were tangible it would write novels
endless pages of unbearable description and heart wrenching prose
if pain were tangible it would write novels
endless pages of unbearable description and heart wrenching prose
