To your pleasure,
I will never call you again.
Nor brush your lip with mine.
Mourning you has become an art.

Lament now?
Should I?
No…
just once more…

Sharpened words we used to puncture,
no longer unsheathed.
Scars within,
leave lasting marks too.

A black widow you are…
a wonder in beginnings,
luring me in your web…
deadens me.

I hate you.
What tensed me so
to say that to you?
You’ve drained me of emotion.

I drag my anger away.
I will not listen anymore.
I know death is waiting…
just beyond.