Eternal Asunder
Last Kiss by Massimo Pedrazzi Eternal Asunder Across dimensions, poems written as writhing in agony, the poet and his veins slicing the very paper reminiscent of a tale for a life with no love, only stale. Countless verses with words both told and untold, A heart aching, stuck inside its walls of mold. Ages of thrill for the biggest sin in life, for an eternity wasted until a gluttonous afterlife. Sought the peaks only to become a pest of stories reminiscent of bleeding from the chest. For a quill filled with blood torn asunder leading to the sweet breath of your mouth under. There are no stories left, only to observe; thus thy visage shall become undo my preserve. Harnessed the Sun to be none but null, songs of funeral, striking my skull. Aching bodies with a soul no longer hardened and hands disheartened, a creation burdened. 'Tis but my funeral, shall we celebrate for what it is worth, I am au fait. I waited at the bottomless pit for a soul for a soul with hands ready to...