It’s a Tragedy

“It’s a tragedy,”
They’d say, breath
Static and still.

“A bloody shame,”
They’d weep, no
Tang of iron
On the tongue, no
Sight of scarlet
In the depths
Of their creased palms.

“He will be missed,”
They’d state, no
Tears sludging
Out their eyes, no
Dribbles of snot
From their nose

As if my corpse
Fingers could never pluck
A single string
Of the heart.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s