The grace, had all laid among wastes,
With the taste of blood upon our frozen tongues,
For we could not speak when time was not friendly.
Time was only between us,
Creating a horrid barrier,
A blockade, of sorts,
Tragedy was our craving,
As we both waved
Two syllables from each our hands,
The farewell, that drew us apart.
Full of spite, we were,
Among the debris, we were,
With ice upon our eyes,
And winter stinging our souls,
Here, we shimmer, and distort what reality we knew,
While droplets fall to freeze
From eyes shown in torment.
Leaves quiver and dance,
Agony calls with writhing limbs,
Near to us.
Kisses become engraved in the belly of our beastly selves,
The appetite to every pattern
Of flakes, in the snow.
Love is a splinter
In our skin.
A little pain in the flesh,
Like a thorn turned away from sin
We crave, enough to save, what will not rot,
Between ourselves and the next love
To eat away.
We bleed, but we stay
Among ourselves, to satiate.