I'm in a room, it's dark - pitch black
Perhaps it's the blindfold I'm wearing
It's grinding into my eyes - pulverizing them,
I can hear the dust dripping onto my chest
But I'm too desensitized to mind
Too weary to salvage my remains
Yet, I feel my body lifting off the ground
Now I see my limbs were detached
Torn off from the household's Tug of War And claimed by them
Whilst mercilessly tossing out the rest of me
Off the ground, I'm cradled inside a tender embrace, subtly induced with curiosity
Through is fingertips, I taste the scent carressing my face,
Feel his lips sway my own.
If only my hands remained intact
I'd feel his stead.
D