The taste of ashes
filters through my
tongue as I try to
remember the words.

Words that cling to
jagged rocks that
marks the end of
living and signal
the peace to come.

The smell of tragedy
tastes sweet with
the sugar that burns
through the blood,
and the insulin
is lowing any hope.

Water like tears
flicker through
and out of my soul.

What soul I have
is a torn piece of
linen in my fragile
butterfly wings.

Your harsh words
and the dark stares
slaughters any
love for anything.

Oh jagged rock
do not bare your
heart to me.

For ashes taste better,
and my body craves
to be free.

09/20/2008

Posted on 09/21/2008
Copyright © 2025 Christopher Shin