Smells Like Flesh

kill me with your love,
or just kill me!
i'm sick of existence
and struggle....
the flame of the candle,
does not burn my fingers.
and the roar of stillness deafens!
angels and demons cannot satisfy,
even the trees ask forgiveness.
these lips are blue with frost,
yet the grave smells like flesh!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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