Jun 04


she trembles
as every sob wracks her body,
violently shaking her.
i can hear the death rattling around in her ribs,
the soft whisper of veins collapsing
and the stillness of somber.

i can feel the loss,
cold against my fingertips,
as i interlock mine with hers.
she's shivering,
cold and drenched
from having stood under stormy clouds
and tears for too long.

she's cried rivers,
and i can feel the valleys and twists
in her worn skin,
the stories she could tell
from having been carved with tears
from cold marble,
solid and unnerved.

there is tragedy in her soul,
frustration in her heart,
and contempt in her bones.
it can only fuel
a biological machine
for so long
before the gears rust
and everything cracks.

there is nothing i can do to stop her.