Martyr

By
More by this author
I was swimming in a Cerulean Sky
…sweet sweet agony….
That flash of white.
Your smile…
And then the Blue.
Oh, that Blue.
Your sugary strokes on strings…
A song about an Idiot.
I was that Idiot, wasn’t I?
You continued to shoot my Life.
You. Looked. At. Me.
How could you do it?
Your adoration was my Fountain of Youth.

I had to drink from it.
You knew I loved you?

Saturating my finger with ember kisses,


Feathering soft breaths across my psyche…

Playing a game of Hide and Seek
I could’ve been Emma… you were Gerard.


You sang to me.

We wanted to go to Chicago.

Roxy. Roxy. Roxy.
All I really knew was that Cobalt.




Your Azure.

The paths down that sapphire death.
My Death.


Planning to slip the golden noose

Round and Round my sunburned neck.
You tugged until I was choked to your spirit.
My Death.
I told you what I wanted.


Wanting to get away.



You said we’d go on your Uncle’s plane.




Ireland and beyond.
You pulled my heartstrings like a puppet’s threads.

And made me worship your Surf God.

And I went, like you told me, to Ruin.
Poor and destitute
when you played
your tricks on another
making me

your martyr.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback