Only Tender Bodies and Petals Bruise

three kings weeping

the kings

sit upon the hill

watching

you, their knight.

secretly,

hidden between the folds

in their robes

the kings

grip onto each other.

in the moonlight

you are not blind

and the horse beneath you

is eager for a sip,

not of water

but instead

finds warm blood

leaking

from the fissure in my heart.

and the sword

fits perfectly

in your calloused palm,

moaning

to be drawn from my body.

the kings, patient,

radiating heat,

sigh with silent relief.

we are free.

you

from my company.

me

from the load you placed upon me.

and the kings

free of guilt.

and the pain

i've carried

floats above their heads

and resides

within the stars.

sips and sighs of stale air

sharp tongues

lick and slide,

nimble and silent.

the wind whispers warning

between her ears.

inside,

she hurts

and shes hungry.

the pulse beneath her feet

breathes life

into her hopeless lungs.

quick fingers of night

tug and pull,

but her strength is waning

she drowns within the dark.

the willow branches quiver

sorrow pulls heavy on its limbs;

wilted leaves drip

like tears

upon her body below.

the cold earth breathes wind

into her back,

but she lays quiet,

uninterrupted.

worms wriggle a song of misery,

the worms her only company.

the gray sky

meets gray earth

she lays gray upon the horizon.

to hold her back together

she holds a single rose in her hands

he, a bitter leaf.

aphids crawl from her fingertips

ripping petals from weakened limb.

tender, tender

he wraps her in silkened sheets,

her body aches of missing pieces.

the sullen stars

watch her bleed

dull with her pain.

a rose of white, turned red, turned black

her lips are cold to match,

his kiss a drink

of wanted air

but he grows tired through the night.

awake, awake

with morning dew

his eyes drip with mourning,

her skin pale and grows paler

as dawn washes her from memory.

it's not hard to swallow you whole

the moss that grows on your back

when your heart stops beating.

a breathing, turbulent green

crawling atop your skin

until i can no longer recognize

a smile that bit me,

teeth that tore at my heartstrings.

the fog rolls in

behind your stiff eyelids

to cover sparks that used to blind me.

she knows,

she knows how to erase you from memory.

her children pick and caw

taking your promises and swallowing them whole.

the ocean beats on your chest

leaving bruises on cold skin,

making you nothing

but another stone

slowly dissolving into sand;

your pieces spread far and wide.

she knows how to hurt you

how to keep you

from coming back to me.