PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Slow is the sound
of the steady drip-dripping

from the faucet in a porcelain tub

A beautiful scene it would be:

no sigh of breath but

her soft pale flesh

   resting a mess

cradled in her porcelain tomb

wearing naught but quiet smile

   naked fingers do quiver

   opened wrists do shiver

as deep crimson rivers

pervert the white tiles

A wondrous sight

of raven hair bright

withered and slightly tangled

No different in feeling

if this body was living

then this body now gently mangled

and slow is the sound
of the fading thump thumping
from the heart in an empty girl