17 September, 2015

We are secret

We are secret
in your language
In ours

Six hundred year-old ghosts
covered in the blood of lying prophets,
unable to stop confessing

Why are you talking about that
Stonefaced and aloof
My skin always smirks

We celebrate sorrow justly,
mocking and teasing it
It is a rainbow

I will confess your sins for you
They are buried in the desert
They are secrets now

Gods of stone drinking blood
My heart
Our gift is the beauty of death

I am a corpse
in a linen dress
hugging you close at night

We are secrets
and we laugh at your tears
when we are dying

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