Dead To Her Dying World

Back upon the ashen fields of whispers and
the soft touch of romance
where our lips ignited the breeze like passion's butterflies,
do you remember the fresh scent of morning misery upon your breast?

I choked upon the rotten petals fallen like rain,
my tongue catching the dusty remnants of apathy,
and as shattered yesterdays fade away into a thousand gallons of unspoken tomorrows,
I can feel your name floating in the rivers of denial
that one winged angels call my veins.

We've dipped hands in enigmatic words,
leaving a tear cascading poetic sorrow
that's now carved in the flesh of your cheek.

My skin is withered,
and it feels like I'm shedding nothing but nothing;
all the hollow slumber dances upon my dreams,
it seems I've been torn at the seams,
like a teddy bear drowning in jagged stones.

I've rolled upon the tides;
crimson waves smothering the scenic route to each other.
All I follow is the footprints of ghosts,
melting away with what I bleed from the strewn nails,
entwined in hiding from you one day....

Oh yes we're dead to the world,
but in the frozen depths of your arms,
caressing the skies of soft, smooth skin,
as if in black and white whirlpools I've swirled.

My violin can not but borrow your shivering songs,
God I won't pray to you,
buried twelve feet in tear soaked dirt,
my love lies deeper than a corpse in a casket.
Cracked and splintered bones,
ripped apart like the hypnotic television wires,
entwined in hiding with you one day....