My Man Builds Coffins

My man builds coffins

is made of bruises and scars

of dripping blood from wounds

that never quite go away

leaves shadows in his eyes

My man is made of whiskey

of pills

of American Sprits and black coffee

of demons found in the smoke

My man builds coffins

and it makes his heart cold

his body lean and shoulders broad

with rough hands and biting mouth

tastes of melancholy and ash

that claws up his throat

crawls down mine 

leaves me burning brighter

than ignited coal

My man builds coffins

and rages against his mind

with an ache that settles into his bones

hollows out his heart

and Jesus, Jesus his every breath

corrupts his lungs

bruises his ribs

My man builds coffins

and finds solace in his hands 

buried in my hair

finds solace in the

silent shaking sobs I wrench

from him to keep in me

my man finds solace

in me drowning in  his sea

My man builds coffins 

Reviews

[Gryphon]

I really like your word choice. I was able to clearly picture what you were saying and I just found it enjoyable to read. Good job!

[yashmita13]

very cool word choice
quite unpredictable too
i loved it
yay!

[charlie]

Kind of a 'killing me softly' tale.
Very much like the tempo, Annelise, which feels nicely reinforced by the vortex of story line and refrain.
A thoughtful composition, and moody.

Thanks for sharing.