Email Poem

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Poem

our love was a corpse
left to rot in the gutter
festered wounds seeping rot
the stench of our decay
clings to our skin

i am the undertaker
burying the bones of our love
the memories haunt me
like ghosts in the morgue

silence suffocates
a veil that wraps around
our necks, squeezing tight
the truth of our demise

in this darkness, we find
the art of our pain
a canvas of shattered souls
where love once dwelled

now we're left to drown
in the void of our own making
the weight of our regret
crushing us, bone by bone

and when the darkness claims us
our own hands will be the ones
that bury us

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