Ghostcrowned / Flowerskeleton | A Poem

I tried to make my childhood last for as long as possible.

And I was not the only one.

I didn’t acknowledge the parts that started breaking.

The alcohol steaming out of human skin.

The nostrils burning from the smoke of an undead cigarette crumbled into ashes.

Head bashing still against the wood of the table.

The past was a stampede in his mind.

He poured blood in his glass and drank it all.

Away. One gulp and all the faces would reappear and never leave.

A big house, so that two could live as far away from each other as possible.

And still it felt too small. Too pedantic. Too oppressive.

She squeezed her whole life into a room.

Borders around him.

Everything split in two.

She had always been waiting for death.

I saw the frustration in her blue eyes.

Awaiting her turn.

Nothing on earth felt better than hear this woman laugh her heart out.

“Sitzender M√§dchenakt” by Egon Schiele (1890-1918)

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