VANITAS ― Poetry

vii.

my lips taste like yours after they committed murder

the blood that runs in your veins was once mine, 

you spilled it and it became part of your body

the same way my atoms were pulled to your atoms

so they could form new molecules no scientist

has ever heard about

you mutter my name and it becomes a new kind of spell

only you can perform.

my Patronus takes your form. so does my Boggart. 

you're both my spirit guardian and my biggest fear, 

both the kiss I crave for and the Dementor who gives it.

my bones crumble into the dust you sweep away from your soul,

that you mop into the darkened corners of your hallowed mind

everyone sees the halo adorning your devil horns,

but only I see it for what it is, a crown of thorns.

you wake my heart up from its hibernation, 

you bring spring and summer upon it, 

everything is blooming and then fall comes and everything is dying

and when it finally gets to winter, 

everything is either freezing or crying.

you put my conscience to sleep, 

it rests peaceful and still for one hundred years

and when it wakes up

it wakes up to no kiss, it wakes up to a kill

for you murder every thought and every ideal

that has ever dared to grace the insides of my head

you first make my senses dormant and numb

with long slender fingers meant to play the piano, 

not me, not my body, and certainly not my heart, 

but you played me and you made music out of me

and I can't hear it, for it's in a frequency of the gods, 

only I call them devils,

it's the death march to the Olympus and the elegy

to the yet to be killed,

too divine for my earthly ears to catch, 

too corrupted for my mind to comprehend.

my brain waves roll over your sand and crash onto your cliffs,

drawn to you not by the moon but by your voice, 

the owner of my tides, the siren of my drowning,

the slayer of all choice.

you make my senses dormant and numb

only to overexploit them

you don't have enough love to feed my cravings