I write words.
Heart blistered, savagely picked apart by the buzzards that covertly portrayed your love in this tragedy. Puncture wounds
By Vanessa Jasek3 years ago in Poets
Pink, glossy lips Long, beautiful eyelashes Carefully lined eyes, in black onyx Flawless finish, forehead, cheeks, and chin
By Vanessa Jasek3 years ago in Horror
Your voice resonates in the empty spaces of my brain, so that I can feel your words bouncing and bounding off bone and soft tissue,
For I rejoice over small beads of warm red blood on the white underbelly of my arm. Yet, I also recoil at the meaning
I sit awkwardly in my black dress with the tiny white flowers, among a sea of black trash bags, in what was once your room.