I Couldn'T Stop The Spirit

I couldn't stop the spirit from leaving- I saw it leaving from the eyes first, A waving goodbye was there, as of small white flags; Or departing reflections from the present Desire to be no more, to fly away to no matter where- I couldn't stop the hands from shaking- Small and cold sweaty hands, like fishes made of flesh, Quaking like the too-fast heartbeat Of something too small and terrified to survive long; Something that wished to hide from the piercing eyes of forever- I couldn't stop the words, couldn't stop the flow- Words like blood, flowing from opaque purple wounds, From the central stony statue of the heart’s switchboard, From the bitter caverns of the mouths silent quivering: The murder of something priceless, that could only sing goodbye.