Killing Saints

At least when my heart is broken I have inspiration to write.

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 your eyes once danced with light...
They now yearn to find dark secrets in a dying girl's lament.

Author's Note

Any critique is welcome.

Reviews

[Jay. E. V.]

I love the way you speak of the way the body changes in our mind, not just physically. The way we percieve ourselves and how we feel about it=). I loved it. 100/100

[Jeselle Jayn]

Thank you! I use a lot of body imagery for some reason. I guess it's how I connect with the world and my emotions.