She stood from the rubble that was once him
and walked away with the elegance and poster
of a sculpture.
His hands, they'd broken, and her face remained as cold as marble.
His lips, they'd shattered and her own stayed still as stone.
His body, it has melted and she held his pieces and his future and she stood and left him
to be ripped apart by footsteps for eternity.
It's only natural,
She said to him, as she watched his body break.
As she kicked the pile of rubble from her path,
His heart broke.
She walked away,
a statue in the summer sunset.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoesieAll of our colors are different, and mine are still lost to oblivion. You can watch me try to find them.
