PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

she lays in the street

bloody oil forms her wings

lips parted in a slient scream

broken eylashes on her cheek

she's no beauty, she's not prestine

but ever lovely she is to me

her once pulsing heart is now shown

to be ripped out and held by many unknown

but was i ever to hold the thing that she held dear

i would shed a tear

before the sirens

before they come

I thrust my arms into her bones

I tug the very thing that made her whole

heavy heart in hand, a quick kiss, and i stand to stare as the bystanders gather

they look at me blood pooled by my feet

a step back, and then two more and then im sitting in the dark cross legged on the floor

holding it

touching it'

turning it round and round

the texture so inviting

i clasp my hands around it and just before i squeeze, a sharp pain shoots through me

a stand still memory taking up everything

then the sound, that angel ring

bounces through the darkness

screaming loosely

the tears flow down my face as her heart starts to race

nd the poem she sings seems to eminate from every vein. singing and calling my name " avery sing with me so happy we are to be free, to love and live and feel and cry avery when we leave will you stay with me? through everything my avery"?

it falls to the floor with a heavy thud as my eyes poor into my hands

it all floods back to me

'everything i've seen'

pale white skin twisted in ways it shouldnt have been

small drips of red allong her seams 'flowing in dark thick streams

her bright dead eyse staring through things that noone else can see.