Cover Up

When the lights are out and your heart's on fire,

you hyperfixate on morbid things.

You imagine a song, and maybe a god, too,

to take you away on the high tide.

The world gets a little lonely, and you hold on

to bad men with handsome faces and murderer's hands.

You take ghosts to bed with you,

let their hands remind you of times long gone.

You wait in the fog and darkness

for something to change.

There you sit, in the dark room, surrounded by

dead memories and repressed thoughts

and you forget whose body you live in

and whose hands are moving

and whose heart is beating

and whose mind is scrambling.

You are far away, across the seas and soils

tethered to the air and breeze.

And there you return, your eyes tired and dark

widening as you stare down at that

body, it can't be yours, and that

blood, it can't be yours.

You wipe your tears with red marker pen.

Cover up.

Author's Note

Sad and reflective.