Still Gray

Look at these ashes, cool to the touch

Still holding their form

Shells of life which is now naught

Look at this form

Still structure with no pulse

Balanced thinly by oxygen bonds still caught

Look at my heart burned outside of my bod

My pulse is still throbbing

Wildly robbed

I turn away now and you will be

Brushed in a box

Forevermore boxed memories caught