Toska - So It Goes

He’s got handprints on his chest

With finger-painted heart palms

And tender tensed fingertips-

So it goes.

 

He’s got a stale kiss on his lips

That still hasn’t washed, 

Never will

 

And

 

He isn’t afraid of death,

Held it in his arms,

Watched it walk away.

 

He swears it looked back.

 

He was told

Not to be sorry

But to treat the next one

Like love wasn’t deep

As he thought it to be.

 

Now he chalks words from dust,

Nourishes hardwood with saline,

And gasps for air that isn't there,

Anymore-

 

So it goes.

 

Reviews

[Nobody.]

holy hell. this makes every part of me ache. the pain of loss and the miracle of healing over and over like waves washing in and out....days passing too slowly....eyes dried and cracked from crying and staring remembering to blink every now and then to keep from going completely blind.
taking a break only to notice that death doesn't pass by without tattooing her stare on your soul.
but we keep working and breathing and being because that's just how it goes.

powerful and soul-chilling piece man.
cheers!

[vido.]

i adore the fifth line, where you refer the kiss as stale as well as your personification of death. your use of repetition which also adds significance. great write!

[MuSe Ampoule]

aw. got a little choked up on this one. You unfolded the tale beautifully and drew me in...and then smashed me like a bug. I'm happy for it. Loss, grieving, so sad and I felt for him. "So it goes."