A Portrait of A Pretentious Mind

If my heart is an open casket to be draped with fine garbs of sorrow
Then this verse is but one thin silk veil of blood-drenched woe
If the finely entwined threads of this garment
Could give voice to their thoughts they would only choke
And retch their way through epic dirges of lost hope
Tell tales of hurt and abandonment

For now these cloths bedeck my docile heart and whisper
Soft reminders of my life, wrapping tighter round the muscle
Til the arteries are cut off and claret flows no more through it’s ventricles
The heart withers and gasps, faltering and unnerved by the blood’s absence
As too do I, for you are the blood that keeps me alive
The thread that weaves through my mind and keeps my thoughts together
Gathered is all I can be at best and only with you do I cling to that

Without you I am not living, I am but barely breathing
And the absence of my heart weighs heavily on my lungs
For if my heart is an open casket then
Without you, my mind and self have made a bed of the coffin
And are to be buried inside the cold heart
Without you I am merely a pallbearer
And the solitary mourner at my soul’s funeral
I am cold without you
And I realise now that I can’t lose you

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4 thoughts on “A Portrait of A Pretentious Mind

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