The Crossing

The roundabout in the rumbling dark sculpted my breath into stillness, i could hear the trains whistle,

or maybe it was drifters

treasures spilled from a cloth-made bag, 

tied last-minute with a rope meant to accessorize my neck

drifting, whispering, and the wind moaned to me

unbearable proximity

my heart caught its breath onto my spine,

The figure approached

when all i could do was fumble through my ribs to slice open the ruptured plaques, pumping each artery to burst

as the drifters clotted my blood,

but they were dead

i had been hearing whispers from the dead,

MY KNEES CRUMBLED ONTO THE SOOT BECAUSE I GOT SCARED

i had to let my heart go and wrench them back into place 

because they had cracked open in the shape of an x

i caught my unspoken breath,

wailing in sorrow upon the sight of wings surpassing those of angels

a chest was shuddering, but it was not mine

tubes squeezed, bones squeezed

neither of them mine

and i coughed, but it was in rewind,

and came from the outside

all he had to do was stop for me to start screaming uncontrollably

my hands trembled to the treasure,

i wanted him to take it, to look at it

but the only thing there done was a pointed finger onto my neck

my pendant was my greatest posession

i had lied, offered a cover-up instead

his pointed finger was a powerful magnet and my necklace the end

skin gushed open as it didn't bother unchaining itself,

and slit my neck,

but there was no blood,

only my conscious head