My lungs failed.

My mind fogged.

The tears stopped flowing,

For I was dead.

 

My heart ceased.

My body trembled.

I could no longer feel the rain,

For I was dead.

 

He watched and waited.

But he wasn't there.

I laid in silence,

For I was dead.

 

My spirit crushed.

My skin crawled.

He had broken me,

But I was already gone.

 

My wrists bound.

My throat bruised.

He assured me I would be fine.

But how can the dead heal?

 

He held my throat with lust-filled eyes,

But never let go.

He stills holds tight.

Now it's my turn.

 

With that pink plus sign in one hand,

A cold pistol in the other,

I took back my control.

I had been dead for a while.

 

Now it is just official.

 

~awatr