Temple - Mortality Rate

Feel her pulse within your hands

Weave her hair through the paper

And hope your pen runs out of the ink that writes of the pain in your eyes

Write these words like her veins

Spread these words like her veins

Feel her pulse within your hands, weave her hair through the paper

Hear her silence within these words, all she leaves is a whisper.

Write these words like her veins

Spread these words like her veins

Remember the letters that you never sent

The promises she never kept, hope that your pen runs out

Runs out