Untitled Poem by comatose

the sheets are blemished and stained and her sandal broke a mirror
scattered to pieces into the red bedroom floor
redenned by the cascading blood from the bed where she lays still and with gaps and been consumed for the pleasure of the sound and sight of desperation that thrilled the blood

the guilt and i are making love and she watches eyes wide open
two chisels deepened into my torso
how beautiful her face was when express with hopelessness
and from her eyes the tears are still streaming to her face
the curtains dance with the wind as she slowly turning pale
empathy compels and its pleasure once again and again and again