the same skull stares at me, its dead sockets gaping
i felt fresh, clean, like a warm pile of laundry waiting to be folded and put away nicely
i still feel your hands on my jaw
and with the world on the verge of ending, it doesn't look like you'll get another chance anytime soon.
they stare at you with shadows in thier eyes and only spare you a quick wave
my heart jumps a little, it's slow progress
it burns, then it softens, and when it leaves it turns to stone