Lungs
Filling-
sulfur and
spit.
I felt your hand play over my head again
and tug at the strings,
long dead thoughts
blooming
into vapid decay,
as your fingers twisted
knots
into my
thoughts.
I could spill over.
Fill that void with self-
loathing and hate.
enough to fill it to its brim
and overflow into
others.
How heavy is the sword above? Will the fall pierce my head or heart?
Hide my eyes
cover these wounds
they don’t help me anymore
their pity isn’t what it used to be.