Wrenched and twisted,
a sigh escapes
my heart, for you
and I, to be together.
Spun in a bin,
filled with a liquid,
to cleanse, to bind,
out to dry, on a hanger.
Hangs there thus,
to dry, to wrinkle, to fade.
Into the last ray,
of dimming light,
without the vitality,
of a last fight.