400 Days

My dead fingers still grasp your cold heart

In a ceremonial cross fingered sense 

I'm clutching these items of tattered art

to my frozen ribs, in aggressive defence.

-

I'm squeezing the space in my chest 

Fragmented shards have clung to my skin 

Each turn cuts, Each move means to repress

My eyes they are closed, from what could have been.

-

Wishing to stay secure in this tenement 

From the anchor thats holding me down 

My arms they are straining around sentiment

That is lost far deep underground.

-

So my lungs they are filling with dirt 

And each breath is taking a step towards a lack 

Of light from the curtains, to hurt

A line of pure sun across a beaten back.

-

That If i look at, I'll be leaving who you were

I'll be abandoning, If i look further to shore

The pieces that you've left to stir

These fragments that reach up from the floor.

-

Reaching to my stolen heart, 

Wait there, because deep down I am hollow 

But I welcome the eclipse to a start

It hides you, so that I can no longer follow. 

-

Because your smile is confirmation 

That time isn't actually standing still 

400 days, have passed without hesitation

Yet I still looked back as I stumbled downhill.

The End

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