the Apocalypse of May

After I exsanguinated you,
Your shell rose up and crushed my soul,
My infidelity was your cue,
To turn an embrace into a suffocating squeeze,
Leaving my bones to suffer in the merciless summer sun.

And my palms and fingers are now rotting off,
Not a game to play since the apocalypse of May,
Had I my feet to bring me to the keys,
Yet I would refrain,
Your mad rant dancing in my ears,
"I'll always be above you, I'll always be above you."