Felt.

Time stood still for nary a soul,                    
it dragged its feet, aching and old. 
Blistering heat that made us melt, 
we were once softer than silk felt.

Hallowed hearts wind whistled through,
covered in bruises, black and blue.
Hardly broken, but maybe bent,
running on empty and love spent.

There comes a day in all our lives,
when our failures cut deep as knives.
But you shall remain a triumph,
you stayed with me, like a science.

Words were whispered, curses, we'd shout,
until the blood drained from our mouths.
Yesterday—softer than silk felt;
seems like all we do these days is yell.