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

in my

barren field of fucks…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s