The beauty within me drains slowly—
My eyes wide open, staring lifelessly as they try to revive me.
Pump after agonizing pump, electricity runs through my clogged veins.
The look on your face as you realize it’s too late…
If I could cry for you I would shed a thousand tears as I hold your hand in mine when we create our own pond of salted emotions.
My body is no longer mine, but a host that has been gone for some time.
Her lips have changed and her skin tightened like the drugs of a celebrity youth potion.
And I leave with this notion—
Sometimes death can be a beautiful thing
Sometimes the absence of beauty from life transcends all nonliving things into the works of artistic expression.
As the host wilts under the rays of fluorescent lights I have to say one last thing—
Do not fear death once you have passed on
It isn’t all that it once seemed.
Words of expression 