A Prison To My Soul

I tried to reach out, blink in silence and say my words, but there is a lost syllable and a forgiven diction. I buried my art, my passion. I tried to tear my skin apart, carve in silence and swim in the blood, but there is a broken knife and a tired hand. I buried my sorrow, my passion. i tried to hold your hand, glimpse in your heart and kiss it close, but there is a fragile door and the locks made of dead petals. i buried my love, my passion. "I went back to the grave, holding your favourite lilies. I dig slowly beside you and reach the metal clank. I loved you passionately and obsessively. The box handle creaks and opens, a canvas with dried blood stains, a half fractured knife and the unsent letters. a lady walks up to me, handcuffs me back and requests that i slowly move away from the evidence and let go". I buried your body, my passion.