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What binds us; divides us
October 8, 2010
I've gotten used to the sound of your voice
So much that I can't remember the sound of mine
I speak in verbal signs;
a tone or resonance and arrogance
but I'm still prone to the disease
and how it affects me
I hear your lack of appetite for life
and it leaves me
craving more
I'm a magnet to the victim inside your soul
When you're finally trapped I'll feel you lose control
A number of "I love you's"
But the image of your lips pressed to my scars
never leaves me
© Sayda C., North Bergen, NJ
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