deepundergroundpoetry.com
anatomy of an empty person
the crisping air
has a jaw on the dining table
spoon-feeding it whiskey
from under a flowery tablecloth
(one of death's first robes)
it's been a long night:
a night growing longer
and the rain
rattles the windows
in tune with an
inconsistent ticking
coming from
a bruised
rib cage
there are scratches
blending into the wallpaper
and bone fingers
disappearing
into the trim
you've never pretended to be so afraid
so i tell you to wait while i
bundle the bed sheets
and
dust the crumpled paper
from the floor
and we were like that
just like that
empty
always
has a jaw on the dining table
spoon-feeding it whiskey
from under a flowery tablecloth
(one of death's first robes)
it's been a long night:
a night growing longer
and the rain
rattles the windows
in tune with an
inconsistent ticking
coming from
a bruised
rib cage
there are scratches
blending into the wallpaper
and bone fingers
disappearing
into the trim
you've never pretended to be so afraid
so i tell you to wait while i
bundle the bed sheets
and
dust the crumpled paper
from the floor
and we were like that
just like that
empty
always
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