And I never imagined that

A being made out of love

Could be butchered like that.

Could be dragged across lands.

The being I held in my arms.

The beating heart,

Blood shed on shredded skin.

I can’t hold you no more.

They made me lose you.

And what has been silent and fearful

Was eradicated from below.

I held your head against my chest and

Now I wish I had never released you.

Did I abide by the rules of love?

Now that you are my deceased lover?

Is this how it goes?

The tongues spit fire

And they let us burn?

Our vulnerability is a target.

We dissolved into one another,

Where did half my body go?

I think of you

And I’m in pain, I see your face,

And I feel you’re invisible

On mine.

800px-Edvard_Munch_-_Self-portrait_(1886)

“Self-portrait” by Edvard Munch (1863-1944)

 

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