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We Wrote Each Other in Blood
We licked ink from our open wrists,
a contract signed in salt and longing.
Our syllables stitched into sinew,
each verse a gash we chose.
You crawled inside my name,
built a cathedral from my echo.
I slept in your apology,
a pillow soaked with dreams that died in the cradle.
What is marriage if not mutual decay?
We baptized ourselves in entropy.
In every moan, a gospel;
in every silence, a dirge.
We made a sonnet of ruin,
willingly,
gladly,
dying syllables on each other’s tongues.
Copyright ©
Kell Futoll
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