He wore my blood as a
cloak
the red
and the blue
a purple tattoo
a talisman
for the task:
a trip
down the lane
to the land
of the living
He ripped through the floors
and the boards
of my body,
victorious
against angels that kissed
him
and tore down the door
of my being
no knock no bell
just knives,
needles and
tongs
With him fled
Dignity and Vanity
and instead came
a love that bled to the beat
of his heart
and the pull
of his lungs.
I puked green bile, ******
on a promise
of gas and air
chewed honey pills
but still
he refused to swim out,
my little newt.
Stars bowed to
the bulging moon,
and mortality shuffled
a little closer
but finally he showed,
to a chorus of women who shouted
and cut,
twisted and sewed.
He popped like a camel
through the eye
of the holder,
a watermelon
bursting
through the space
of a face
flooding me with
a chemical trick
a liqueur so sweet
I cried and smiled
to the soles of my feet.
They tore at his lifeline
‘til it snapped like bone,
and with the weight of him gone
I was delirious
drunk
done.
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC