papercut autopsy.

Neatly written and fatal

Your notes hold more than I can

Words cut autopsies

First, pallor mortis

Pale blue skin, blue lips, blue days

Contagious cobalts

Then, algor mortis

Your coldness then had scared me

Now, frigid’s final

Last, rigor mortis

Could one heart still another

You‘ve laid mass worlds stiff

Just a funeral

Life’s library stuffed in wood

Cold skies, stiff and blue