How dare you speak,
or rather choke my name out of your mouth.
A crevasse so dry an empty,
I am bewildered you could even remember it.
You throw out these dusty words into the air,
my name spread unto this uncaring and ungrateful world.
Why speak of me?
The past has happened.
move along.
Calling out old skeletons in a closet that has been locked for centuries.
Do you speak to call me back?
Are you alone like the many times I was?
Even the slighteset taste or even touch of human flesh to you would help.
Not from me.
Do not tie my arms with this bile you speak from you lips.
I block my ears in fear that I might hear the call from your soul
The one that captivated me and so many others before.
Do not blanket me with lies.
Lies told with such skill that you believe them yourself.
Crawl back into the depths of my closet.
Do not bang on the locked wood that I might let you in again.
Off with you
Be gone.
The past has happened.