Letters of the Past
I am addicted to the trails of dried
Flesh that are left
Abandoned and the stench of
Young blood stained on the
Corner of your left eye
Please act quickly take
This handkerchief and
Wipe it off I
Am getting quite nauseous by staring at
The tangled veins that wrap
Around my last good lung
It’s difficult to breathe hurry
Now dear
Patch up the damned scars and bruises
When I first learned how to peddle
And carcasses of old
Lovers
Rid me of their voices
Tell me that the blotches were simply
Distorted petals
And from here on out
It will be us
Against the world