echo heartbeat weakening into a mockery of a pulse
white feathers stained with red
she curls up on a cold stone floor, our swan,
our love
bleeding life
bleeding warmth.
the warmth we held in our shared palms
the flames i nurtured in my hearth
the spark has died
like words on air
whispered in a cell
with no cellmate to ponder their meaning.
perhaps the novelty of you simply
wore off
perhaps my heart was not forged
for burning
perhaps our hands simply could not
sustain the life it was made to.
whatever the case, it does not matter
what you
(what i)
could have said
the passage of time
has declared
forever
irrelevant;
our swan lies cold and dead.
Written by: Sereen
