I have brought this woman up
Many times in the past.

Memories transpired
Of her flaring fire.
Vivid depictions
Consuming my mind.
A handful of dust
Is all that I am left.

She has left me choking on her dirt.
She has abandoned me in hallows.

I am stranded in the realm of her empty soul.
I am starving for attention I will never receive.

It is the street I gaze at internally.
Continually, unrelentingly she beckons.
She calls me to my gradual death.

She has led me to the pinnacle of my existence.
As she has driven me into the grit of granite.
I am ground into the concrete to remain.

I am trapped in the skinning of her grasp.
Melted image of a memory branded within.
This image is one with me, as I to her.

She is entered into my spirit.
Disconnected, empty, cold.
Stretched out, worn out, thin.

She is branded in my heart.
Red welts making up her name.
She continues to peel at my skin.

Without her, I am nothing,
Yet within her I am the ghost of a stranger.
I am the whisper of a lost reminiscent.

Lost in the murky shores of time,
Vanished into the gust of a hurricane,
Swallowed into the ocean of deviance.

Swallowed by the jaws of granite,
I  am digested through mess of intestines,
Mistaken for **** and thrown back out.

I am left with a handful of dust.
Memories transpired,
Of her flaring fire.
Vivid depictions
Consuming my mind.
A handful of dust
Is all that I am left.