Severed
Forced Silence
Since this piece is rather more macabre than usual, I'm placing it under a cut.
Nightmares claim,
writhe, twist and distort
hollow eyes,
now empty,
but haunted shells of the dreams
that went oh so wrong.
Pale skin glows
by a candle’s light
cold as death,
and yet still
it grows cooler with each night;
refusing to yield.
Crimson stains
play their charming part
on the lips
so silent,
for the tongue has been severed
and the words lain bare.
Confessions,
forever withheld,
lie on the
very tip,
lie on the edge of the tip
of a severed tongue.
Unspoken,
ever left unsaid,
and remain
so they will;
cast aside and left for not,
to be forgotten;
Remembered
only after grief
and horror
strike the heart;
when panicked eyes search for hope
yet find none to spare.
But for now
no words fill these walls,
no whispers,
no murmurs.
A sedatephobic driven mad
by the night’s silence,
In silence
ever waiting still,
for the heart
to be still,
for this racing mind to rest,
yearns for sleep to come.
But alas,
they will ever be
lingering,
stagnating
and suffocating my mind,
these dark images.
Waiting as
they tear through the skin,
like needles
piercing flesh,
I tear away at myself
and carve on a smile.
All for you,
the one who made me,
the one who
has slain me,
the one who bit out my tongue
with a single kiss.
Won't you tell
me, how does it taste,
the bitter
sweet loathing,
the arid copper-ish taste
of a forced silence.