locked

quietly, in the lock-piece on an office door

bare metal scratched with dried scarlet

chipped nails pale, pieces of broken skull

rest in the crevices like a thirsty battlefield.

the rusted key she had once given me

snaps into halves on the passcode lock

her birthday, her number, their anniversary

the lifetimes i've run dry, my last heart

hidden in the bloodstains on her palm.

if my fingertips are the errors, delete me

from codes in the scripting of this world

and i hope my door to her is forever locked

- deathetix