Persecution

A murderer parts cracked lips
Dispensing precious oxygen
to snip the last tie that held us.
The thin-woven thread appeared to be of steel,
but was gold; beautiful, but easily broken.

The killer shivers a chill in their vocals,
no longer caring of scars made or tears fallen;
not even of the leaking bottles of sunlight
harbored deep in our memory.

They realize as their tongue dances across sharpened teeth
that each word is acid,
deliberately dissolving the flesh of our love
drop by detrimental drop.

My lungs contracted,
the air inside choking out a wet gurgle.
Slitting the neck of our false truths
had me drowning in my own dead blood-
my body screaming for a relief that would never arrive.

The very essence of me quickly withered,
dimming into the moonless night of delirium
becoming another dying star.

Pain echoed with the final words,
each reverberation another shot to the skull.
And with ebonizing vision
I cannot conclude if this is
homicide
or suicide.