I wonder if I died the day your hand
caressed the ripped parts of skin
When my chest heaved
Breath hiked
Words frozen under a stretch of longing
Yes, I think I died when cool fingertips
ran slowly over raw edges
dried blood, scarred flesh
When your eyes caught mine, and disgust
coated every singe feature
I must have died when your skin met
mine in a fiery blaze of frustration
Tight eyes refusing to meet mine
You bit your lips, yet I felt
the sting.
I know I died when your embrace
halted, because of torn pink on my side
Just another part of me you tried
to bury
Like the corpse you left disintegrating
on cold wooden floor boards.
