Autopsy

audraburwell

Pale blue spores of rot stare at you

From the broken and bloody tips of

My fingernails, white mildew kissing

The translucent shells of my eyelids

Gummed and crusted with dried fluids. 

 

The reek of ammonia and embalming

Fluid assault your nasal passages, 

Barely masking the rotten and putrid

Scent of death that lingers in the air of 

The morgue, a blanket of decayed flesh. 

 

You trace the constellation of scars that

Line my thighs, a map of brutality, a tale

Of survival, decades of memories 

Preserved in the ink staining my skin, 

Secrets housed in their black outlines. 

 

You twine your fingers in the sea of spilled 

Locks fanning across the surgical table, 

My hair stiff and brittle between your 

Fingertips, as you choke back the flood

Of tears brimming, poised to overflow. 

 

Empty, hollow thoughts flit across your 

Mind as you ponder what dark things I 

Hid from you in life and what mysteries 

I now carry to the grave, deep into the 

Belly of the corpse-saturated Earth. 

 

Your fingers claw desperately at my 

Lifeless wooden flesh, as if you could 

Peel away my exterior, piece by piece, 

Releasing the truths only I knew, as if

Such an act could assuage your guilt. 

 

Audra Burwell

  • Author: audraburwell (Offline Offline)
  • Published: June 29th, 2022 14:01
  • Category: Gothic
  • Views: 32
  • Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
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Comments +

Comments3

  • Raven333

    All though it was a little scary and very descriptive I liked this poem. nice job

  • Jaxxie

    I loved the horrific imagery in this poem. You placed the perfect amount of edge and detail between each and every line. Excellent work.

  • L. B. Mek

    Brilliant!
    (beware what yield, you ask
    of hindsight
    for in that rear view, mirror
    where, all
    is grotesque levels of transparent
    truth itself, is distorted
    into whirlwinds of plaguing, regret
    undo, redo or delete
    options
    don't exist, in reality
    even forgiveness, comes
    with stipulations and gangrene
    heart's
    so if your crimes are as heinous
    as that reflection, that greets you
    then, may you be tormented
    till the end of days
    for
    the memories, you cursed
    your victims, with
    will continue to tear them apart
    till, their very last
    while they strive to survive..
    'You trace the constellation of scars that
    Line my thighs, a map of brutality, a tale
    Of survival, decades of memories
    Preserved in the ink staining my skin,
    Secrets housed in their black outlines. ')
    just a great write, forgive me
    I couldn't help but scribble a little
    something in reply
    to show you, how your words
    impacted me
    thanks for sharing, dear poet



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