heaven filters through the cracks
leaves claw marks on your back
the sparkle of last bits of gin
on the bottom of the bottle
you're drowning in
one finger points, blaming its host
the empty vessel soon to be a ghost
can't live with the life it's chose
the world will break beneath my feet
the gods will cringe at the mere
Idea of
dearly departed pieces of me
I stand
I see
I hope
I breathe
I am
I'm not
I cease
To be
I mourn
dearly departed pieces of me
five fingers stretch across the floor
outstretched reaching toward the door
grasp so far away
far enough away to leave lips bleached
with white washed dead
the world will break beneath my feet
dearly departed pieces of me
© 2006 edenscancer
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/12958/80575 on Tuesday December 02nd, 2008 02:50 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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