all eulogies are confessions

I'm walking on a grave that bears your name on it
the crows and wind call out your name
like a shoutout to a winner
or an executioner's call

I saw my own history mirrored on your face
I saw my own desire hidden in your depths
I'd wear my heart on my sleeve if it weren't so cold
(autumn rains cover me in heavy coats and layers of heartache)
I'm ill from too much love,
fever running higher then we ever flew

I'm a mangled lover
all that's left of me is a beating heart
bruised, maimed and buried
I think I'd love you better in purgatory
(let's be honest,
we sinned too much for heaven and
loved too much for hell)

I think our ending is more ambiguous than our beginning
we know we existed - but are we here now?
or did I accidentally become you?
did you get trapped in the cave beneath my ribs
where our joined heart used to beat?

I think I love your ghost more than I loved you
(I think I hate your memory more than I hated you)

articol scris de Nereia Crisan

fotograf: Sophia Lopotaru