Death

The rotation of the fan

The creaking of the bed

The rustling of the sheets

It was new...as new as

The screaming silence of the room

The trickling of the water

From the corner of the eyes

Was the only indicator

How the soul slowly dies

The red swollen eyes

Was the only red to which now love was bind

While the white walls of the claustrophobic room

Showcased the funeral sheets

Under which lay all the feelings

Resigned, mangled....and dead.