My hands are stained with the blood of kings and gods and everything I touch turns to ash and fades away.
So here I stand alone, left only with myself. Everyone else is gone, by my hand or their own feet.
So here I wander through the stars in search of myself. I create and I destroy. I bring life and end it. I laugh, I cry. I find pieces of me underneath rocks on far-off worlds; places I have never been that feel like home, that feel like poison.
It was our power that bound us together. I spread my wings, you danced on flowers. I wore bones around my neck, you had leaves sprouting from your soft skin. I made the mistake of trying to be with you; your beauty got twisted and warped. Your leaves are withered now.
YOU ARE READING
this bleeding heart || poetry collection
Poetryin another life we were both angels, visiting a newborn earth; you picked the debri from my overlarge, ruffled wings, from when I dove too fast into the atmosphere and destroyed an entire forest in my enthusiasm
