You had witnessed how the flood drowned my calls to a lost soul; you stepped in to swing your arms around my body. Your lips taught me the reason to swim; the rivers of your thoughts became the healer of my naïve soul. Every night after my salvation, your fingers would speak onto my burned skin when your words could not. Beneath the illumination of the faltering candle fires, your lonesome eyes would search for my home; I could give it to you, but I feared the consequences I would face if I tasted your temptation.
“You will break me when the moon rise and becomes whole.” The excitement in your glazed eyes lingered nights after I dropped my unfiltered words to you. I hoped you took it as the truth.
Somehow, the mornings grew on me. I was becoming someone I should have been. I began to sing the songs I killed; the lyrics were the words I buried only for my ears to hear. Now, I opened the cages of my veins and exposed myself to you. Slowly, you turned into the oxygen my lungs needed.
Until you freed your touch from my glowing bones.
Perhaps, you became weary—waiting. “You can smile, now. It’s time to do the same thing with me.” Your whisper caused my breaths to tremble. You watched my growth before; tonight, you sat beside me for my death. Should I be lucky you were present to prepare my wake?
Three months later, I found myself to where I was before. My bloodshot eyes almost spilled blood from the lack of tears. On the balcony, I gazed at the blinking city lights before I light my first cigarette for the evening. Above the starless skies, the full moon rose.
Make me your poetry.
WORD COUNT: 299
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