black grows over veins,
as if disease was spreading,
something has died here,
no amount of parfum or oud could mask the scent of burning flesh
wings attempting to flood rooms to save what is left of her,
but the withering smoke of cigarette in mouth still burns,
nothing is left,
debris cannot surmount to what stones have made this mountain
burning embers only rage for hours,
a firestorm used to litter her eyes,
but only ashes are left in irises,
I tell her seeds grow even in ash,
but I don’t know if there is any recovering from a holocaust in body,
a genocide occured across mind that stayed around mental cages,
denial, rejection and love still painted across tongue and teeth,
cheek still inked in wells of fear,
flowers still attempt to grow out of mouth when laughing,
to mask the carcass of a heart that lays rotting,
scoundrel heart she says,
the throat is still choked in soot,
chimney blocked off with daggers stuck,
unhook one and find yourself trapped in a maze,
I have watched the death of her, since I was 10,
wondered when I could save her,
back then I found myself sprawled across prayer mat and piggy bank,
now I seem to lay sprawled across bed and floor
realising even now,
there is no saving her,
I hope to heal her,
I pray there is hope in the world to heal her,
my beloved,
the one who taught me about love,