To touch her
With cursed and boney hands
The softest skin
Pierced
A stroke in confidence
Pushes a sea of sharpened knives
Into her side
Fresh from recent wounds
The guilt of my kind
Washes over me
Holding helpless hands
Even further down
A fronted strength
Holds this room together now
Stitches showing
Their ripped connections bare
You should keep you deadly hands from this
You're rendered blind to pain
Your actions killed a life
You couldn't feel the trigger that you pulled
You glazed your own eyes over
To blacken hers now
As I reach to embrace this wound
My hands are made from salt
My fingers turn to blades
It is channeled, without my knowing
A heart unsettled
Can not calm down
Into this night
We lie with bodies stiff
Eyes wide open
facing different walls
Longing to return
To a different form
This clay was molded
From expired ingredients
And made with hands lacking skills
Required to form a body
That's suited to this task
This challenge to open doors
To welcome a flood of endless hurt
A tap which stiffens on turning
A stream which can't be blocked
Into this night we hold in air
And hope it lasts us for what we need
To see this out
And hope that no one feels the wet