He

He broke her throat and left her at my door, bathed in moonlight and mutilated brilliantly. The sparrows had made quick work of her features but still the fa├žade remained. Tomorrow comes in brilliant reparations for what the past had made us into. I feel the blood weaken my bones as I look at her through stained glass eyes. Her bloodied corpse is hung on the shower head and the blood trails its sweet way down her body and to the drain. She is forever in the same place like I've been. Forever bruised, forever bloody. It pools in her eye sockets and she hangs in infinite betrayal among the maggots as they chew her intestines into the bliss. He had made her memories into scars, dark bruises patched into his forgetfulness. I wish I could remember her name but he's erased it with acetone and white powder. I sat with him as he contemplated her; we watched each other skipping our own forever together. He brushed my cheek promising to return; with her in a body bag. And in the lamplight I wait for her and for her demise.

His return is scratched into my vision. He brushes his hands across me and I see the look again. That gaze is frozen, settled and appealing. He reaches out to me and then I'm his. The blood settles in the orifices carving deep channels through sweet flesh. The skinned creature glistened in the sunlight. He tears me apart from the inside raking his fingernails through my entrails. My body screams for his decay and he cuts me with my memories. The light blows out from all the whispering voices and they swirl in chaotic romance slicing through my flesh and burning paths across my wrists. The scars are graceful reminders of everything that he spoke and he spent the night and day loving me and burrowing his claws into me. I'm over.