It's heavy- writing about you.

Wanting to hear just once more-

Your voice, your laugh as you gently open

Your eyes after I close them for you.

But it brings back memories-

Memories of anger, of thirst.

Of my blood raining down on you.

I never meant for you to take my wounds

As if they were kisses.

Memories of a pendulum- your body

Hanging from the ceiling, supported by a callous rope.

And the hollow, cold silence as I took you down

As I cradled you in my arms, your cold flesh

Crumbling under my warm one.

Memories of closing your eyes

And you not opening them.