Do you shiver,
when you recall death?
We have all died,
many times,
but it passes by,
like ever constant eyes,
blinking,
watching,
gloom filled continuing,
because nothing was ever fair or true.
Astral accounts can never be real, forsaken by the mortal realm,
toasting to ghosts,
with champagne,
tasteless and full of thirst,
circling around lonely throats.
Dancing every single night,
in the darkest of dimensions.
Do you remember the first time,
that you died?
When someone mistook your kindness for weakness, and tore your heart from it’s cage?
When someone left your longing alone,
long enough,
that it became so see through,
so haunting?
I die,
every so often,
when my heart is in bad hands,
beating outside of my chest,
begging to be back with me,
but knowing it doesn’t belong.
