Rosius

Destructive hearts that exhale orchids.

A carcass spread wide with color, the color of the sky,
Spiraling out into a design, connecting you and I.
Her frail bones alone and withering, what have we done?
Taming the wild, killing the innocent.
Breathe, 
It's not going to be the end of the world,
She just doesn't know what hit her.
A monument in our honor, a display of soul power.
Vulgarities and attempts at public affection.
Oceanic splashes of childhood stain the sheets,
And now when we f**k we can smell the salt water breeze.
It makes me weak.
We communicate in the strangest ways, 
Say the most hurtful things, 
A valley of involuntary sputtering.
A chasm of discomfort, a canyon of familiarity.
Walls carved by the bladed fingers of envy and desperation.
Grounds that have never been explored,
Echos unheard, worlds undiscovered.
We left hollow shells where she planted seeds of civilization.
Intricate stairwells now cracked and paper thin images set in the dust,
Drifting in and out of consciousness.
A world, she built, for us to live in.
Inhabiting a realm of silent sickness, we knew no better.
Fauna set to flow freely from fingertip to fingertip,
Flora buried in the hope of a future.
We were supposed to be the life in this world.
Raindrops hurling themselves into the earth, 
Clouds groaning and dancing and pulling the winds about.
Her smile fading as the world she knew crumbled before her eyes,
Holding everything she would ever have loved,
She watched it all collapse.
The breezes she blew became centripetal force,
And she set the world in a spin.
Her fingers became the change that we craved, 
But oh, how we misbehaved.
With our teeth we drew blood and sword.

A carcass spread wide with color, the color of the sky,
Spiraling out into a design, connecting you and I.

Connected 'till the day that we die.

All that remains of the water we tread to keep ourselves alive.
She is all that remains of the ideas in our heads,
What we think about to survive.
She is all that will ever be known of our needs,
And we put her on her knees.

Reviews

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All that remains of the water we tread to keep ourselves alive.
She is all that remains of the ideas in our heads,

I really enjoyed these words here. This is a wonderful write.
Something to ponder on. I like this.