Wake in the middle of the night,
in sometime to come?
as the memory’s punch in the throat
chokes you with realization’s grip
Like I’ve tried to, in my sleep,
Once grieving mouth moving to form
Hissing syllables with once loving lips
grazing sacramental skin
Callous(ed) hands clasped tightly around your neck
since your glamor finally lost effect
Inhale our last gasp – escaping blued selfish hateful cords
playing a requiem of lies
as it leaves your diminutive body, I once worshiped in,
soft as a baby’s sigh.
Amid the famine
barren field of fucks…