(trigger warning death(

I fell in the middle of route 59, bleeding. I melted between the particles of that smoking asphalt, silently.
No one noticed my departure. The wind slapped me in the face trying to get life to reincarnate out of my lifeless shell.
Shortly, nothing will bear, the proof of my presence, the story of a violent affair.
The vultures and the scavengers set me free.
Your love was my poison. Your love was my crime.

Artwork the Atlantic