Flies
Martin Engler
I'm staring at the wall
your flavor on my lips
I'm watching and I'm counting
all you left me with
flies
I held your picture in the fan
I spilled your drink and your perfume
I share my love with those who join me
In this somber empty room
flies
I pressed the pillow on your face
You didn't want my sympathy
you kept your love for those who join you
seven feet beneath the trees
flies