tacenda|| prose/poetry

MURDER AT THE SUICIDE POINT

"meet me at our love spot."

of course our romance died because of your reckless flames which first lit my feet. now the snakes reside in my guts, that i had emptied to feed your possessive self as a reassurance that i would burn with you forever like the stars burn through the night in the absence of the sun.

"i'm drowning in your thoughts till my heart bubbles with your beats."

"can we converse like normal people? cause i don't speak poetry."

but as i lay there with three broken ribs and a bloody chest waiting for you to perform my open heart surgeryㅡ that you swore would replace the hatred with your love within me ㅡyou took all my trust along with my lungs and eloped with the prayers that knew nothing about your dacoity.

"there has to be something about the dark-- or, it's probably the moon."

"why are you so obsessed with celestial bodies, like they tell their secrets to you?"

"silly, i recite them my tragedies as bed time stories for the whole night and watch them sleep back to the noon."

"do you sound like this even when you argue?"

"obscure?"

"no. like beautiful."

my body at the suicide point where you committed the crime of taking away my heart, swallowing the peace of my brain and chewing on all my thoughts as my memories of you were eclipsed like the seline moon that made the strongest of wolves cry out.

"i think i'm obsessed with the way you think. you should try poetry."

"my words are for everyone, but not every soul deserves its treat."

"i am not so perfect yet. so can you translate this into human vocabulary?"

my veins are now clogged with the vocabulary that sit on my tongue with the broken syllables of 'you', 'yours', 'forever'. these cracked lips stained from your kiss, turned blue from the lack of your white hoax.

and my cold body still lays on the suicide point, where you left me for good,
darling, i now belong to the woods and the moon knows of your crime too.