Frigid Remnants

The ground is crumbling beneath my feet; failing under the weight of a heart that has finally frozen solid.

I do not cry anymore; for all the boiling emotion contained in my body has chilled into un-thaw able shards of ice.

Eyes that had once been the color of the Caribbean tides have now darkened into the pigment of a fresh bruise;
reflecting the agony that has weakened my bones,
morphing my irises into the aftermath of broken capillaries, destroyed by combusted fury.

I don’t see the point in breathing anymore.
I don’t know why my lungs still expand and contract when my heart has lost the ability to beat.

The blood in my veins is stagnant,
and I know that if I were to slice into the arteries beneath my flesh,
crimson tides would wipe out everything that had once existed.

My vacant and useless body would be swept away,
and other, more worthy creatures, could invade my carcass, and live there.



I don’t know what it was about me that just couldn’t survive in this world,
but I know that I was made that way.

I was created to love and love and love until everything inside of me was expelled,
and my entire being was abandoned like an insignificant shell casing.

It turns out that I was never really meant to stick with anybody at all;
longevity was simply a word that would never embody my lifetime.

Naivety caused me to believe that I still had hope,
that I could still have a lengthy existence,
that I could survive.

It was a liar.