Tamara Stamenkovic
Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

Are your eyes only empty coffins?

I wish I could understand
the way your voice
shake when you talk about lust,
as your hands bleed and your skin color disappears
when you touch me.
Is it because you crave
to try other hearts and seduce them
with your lips like you seduced
every part of my shattered being?

I wish I knew why your love
cripples my once sharp edges.
And how can you love me when
all your thoughts are blinding
what is before your eyes
and wander somewhere far away,
where there’s no place for me?

Why do you have this vague need
to escape every time
when you feel me so
deep and real?
Are your eyes only empty coffins
in which the bodies of your lovers
and their remains fill your ego?

Maybe I get it all wrong
and I have to push all of these
issues under the rug
as I listen to your every word.
You know what to say exactly,
to calm me down and quiet my storms.
But the pain doesn’t come from there.
That’s where you’re wrong.
It’s in me.
It burns under my bones,
scratching the walls of my heart
and it makes me scream
until every vein bursts,
and all that’s left of me
is the same ash
that you collect from former lovers.

And again, I laugh.
Still, I can’t stop.
Because you won’t be the one
that will take my soul.
It’s already taking by something else.
It’s already gone.

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