Look at me, Rain ✔️

XXVII - Medusa's heartbreak

I strolled into a blood bank yesterday
and broke a few samples,
set fire to more of them ;
hoping you wouldn't notice.
My soul's drenched with glimpses of Medusa,
my claws out for the unholy liquid,
it disgusts me to know that ghosts
can't bleed.

My hands itch to hurt the one who dared to break my heart.
But my foolish senses, overpowered by flaxseed scent, don't seem to constraint its melting.
In all honesty, though, heartbreaks are the worst.
The darkness swirls through your heart, creating an unnecessary ache,
the ones I despise the most.

I walk past numerous graves and unending crematoriums, looking for an empty yet crowded place,
so no one would care for your death box,
I can gladly take your life, just the way you took my own.
I don't lie when I say this, love is something I don't kid about.
You broke my heart,
so now I break you.

I am sorry if you ever did feel anything at all.
Your death wouldn't matter that much to me in any sense anyway, but still.
I cared for you the way my overpaid gardener cares for my mother's orchids.
I cared for you the way my heart cares for my body.
The rawest, truest form.
But since you didn't,
it will forever disgust me
that your ghost can't bleed.