Of All Things Unforgiven

The gentle strokes of maroon down my neck,

The ones you made,

Gliding your tongue like a paintbrush across my spine.

It's now wilting, 

Crimson flakes withering down my ankles and bleeding colors through my tired pores.

Like the one summer, we spent under the restless sky,

And after a month or two that passes by 

Ever so vividly.

You leave traces of you carved on me.

It shall call for me through violent storms of July

Through lonely autumn nights.

When strange men would try to etch on paintings across my skin,

Like you did

But not quite.

Amidst the countless unwritten ties,

I've only starved for a hand to hold.

I feel stranded among sunsets we've spent

hiding under our own mirage of shame,

The seasons change,

The seasons plunge into a menace,

And I keep waiting for the nights to defy,

The memory when it calls.



It's 3 at night,

And I can hear 

Echoes of lingering conversations smudging across hallways,

It waits for me

Behind rusty wooden creeks.

I remember the closet that I buried

Under an old patio at a home where I don't belong.

And from six feet under,

My skeletons call for me tonight.

The songs you let out of me,

They're gonna ask me to sing again,

Against all odds and evens,

My body refuses to comply

Unless

It's your grip

choking out a lullaby,

Mercilessly,

I sing the song of lust and of all things unforgiven.

Heaven knows today,

Every morning I wish at falling skies,

To never wake up again,

For it's only the song of loneliness and lies

That awaits my demise.