Fluorescent buzz.
Gently cold steel.
Lifeless marble eyes.
Porcelain skin.
Untouched beauty.
The doctors said it was impossible,
But
They couldn’t find any other
Explanation,
Diagnosis,
Answer;
Material or otherworldly.
The
White coats said
That her heart just quit,
It
Just
Stopped
Beating.
Her life,
Extinguished.
Her love,
Unknown.
Her thoughts,
Silenced.
She died of
A
Lonely heart.
They say it can’t happen,
But
I
Can smell your uncertainty,
I
Can see you fear.
Deny, deny, deny
The knowledge
All you want,
But
The underlying sense
Claws
At your skin
And
Inflames it like tears.
They say you can’t die from a lonely heart,
But
I know the truth.
In a place where
Anything
Is said to be
Possible,
We leave ourselves
No
Excuses.

 
Copyright © weaselschmeasel, All Rights Reserved