Titles are Overrated

Part 56

The hot water

runs down

my skin,

shivering

as the coldness of it

is warmed. 

I close my eyes

and try to breathe,

letting all the weariness

of today

wash away.

But even the warmth

can be too much,

suffocating

from the inside out.

Dizziness takes over,

sorrow making me spellbound.

Time feels so hazy,

like the mist

on the shattered mirror.

Hot water

gushes down the drain,

ribbons of red

streaming through it.

Part of me

feels relieved

now the blood

is rinsed from my hands.

But the other part of me -

it doesn't know

where it's from;

what I killed,

or perhaps who.

let the dead bury the dead 

REAL QUICK - y'know what I found out? I absolutely HAD to share this, because I feel like it's so... oh my. Okay, so an old fashioned way of proposing to someone in Ireland apparently was: "Would you like to be buried with my people?" 

I mean, no disrespect, of course, but - WHAT? As dark and poetic as it sounds... it also sounds creepy as. I love it, but damn.