Killing Saints

I think I wrote this after a brutal break up or something.

My body is a battlefield where constant wars are being waged.
In the end there is no noble patriotism or bravery to speak of...
Just memories and flashbacks of the person you promised to be.

The pleasantries could bury me between statues of you,
and the way your words escape your cold, blue lips
could loosen the dirt beneath my feet.

It's in the way the light abandons your eyes-
They yearn to find dark secrets in a dying man's lament.