Festering Truths

November 12, 2016

The anaemic way you glance at me
As if I’ve inhaled your diamond verve.
The haemorrhaging of your eyes,
Like the sight of me burns your blood-
So hot
-That your arteries have burst,
And oozed out crimson warmth.
A smell lingers, coiling the space between
Us. It wafts off you, this putrid odour
Of rot.
Should your station be at my side?
Or is your home the arched stones,
The narrow buildings lined with plaques?
There’s a rumour of Hades inside you,
My dear.
Blame falls on my temple. I let the cold in;
I opened the window for shivering spectres.
They careened through our years, forging
A divide as clear as obsidian to me.
You leer,
Charmed by my inability to find a bridge.
You strut around the higher ground;
While I stand on a crumbling bank,
Waiting for your mercy to catch
My hand.
How long will this loom above me, like
A flock of a ravens as you wear the glove?
Ignorance is a child’s luxury, but
Masquerading is safer than seeing
That band
You leave behind each morning. Happy
Lies will be the burial of us both,
As the apologies fall on ears of ash.
My heart mourns the loss of your
Irises. Gleaming from across the room,
As if Pandora hunkered in your mind.
I feel their absence, skin prickled,
Silver washed away by a black darker
Than night.
Now your gaze is oil, slithering over me,
The fumes wringing my stomach to knots.
But I am no Boy Scout. Tangled in rope, you
Refuse to release me from this suffocation.
For this love is not worth my demise.

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