If Memories Could Kill

A self-inflicted orgasm of guilt
erupts through the valley of her face
my eyes wash the heavenly stitched silk
just obscured by time's steel cage.

This memory is a pain like
watching the colour drip from her eyes
as swollen heart entices rib's spike
a worthy end for a past of lies.

Reviews

[cest la vie]

No where has this little gem been hiding..
painful words, yet beautifully written..