Hands full of ichor
Wrap around my neck
And my eyes
And my mouth
And my nose
And my skin drenched
In gold and in silver tones.
The fissures scatter around my burned skin.
I ponder and I stare into the nothingness
The chasm that I find.
Staring back at me and all my shortcomings.
She begs
She screams
She cries
She wishes for everything
And nothing all at once.
The metal sinks into my fragile fingers.
If I break all of me and tear my limbs apart
Will I escape from my own regrets?
Finally forgiving.
My faults
My shadows
My blood
My ash covered fingers.
Itching at all my gaps and lack in judgement.
But when will I find that you have let go of my throat?
Of my eyes
My ears
My hands
My heart.
When will my ichor stop flowing?
When will my fissures be patched?
When you are here.
I am unbound.
And I know everything will cure
in its own time.
I will find that my fissures will seal
and the ichor will stop running through my veins.
One day I will feel human again.
Someday I will be me.
-Persephone
in an e mood