I don’t know how to write about you and tell the truth.

 

Bare bones, hands shaking, nothing left to do but fill the page.

I don’t think I’m at that stage.

 

I don’t know how to write about you and stop the pain.

 

Sharp edges piercing flesh, blood the color of your soul, pouring from outstretched hands.

No telling where my mind will land.

 

Maybe write about your kind eyes that showed themselves to me alone.

 

Maybe write about how you were home.

 

I don’t know how to write about you and lose myself

in shredded skin and blinded eyes that always saw past 

that face you showed the world…

 

Maybe write about all your rot.

 

Maybe write about how you got caught.

 

 

I don’t know how to write about you and tell the truth.

Anger raging, tears burning, nothing left to do but find the end.

 

Nothing left of you to defend.