you
my angel
made me drink from the fine glass
of despondency before you
peeled my lips off my face
when you walked out of my life.

in your left hand
you’d whip my tounge around
that you rooted out my mouth
like a proud trophy you were left with
in a Roman arena after a good fight.

leaving me to make unintelligible sounds only
just trying to be understood in a world
that only revels in discernment
you slaughtered my greatest gift
from both wrists down

my ability to write
you had stripped from me
my ability to speak all the perfumed words
of my soul
you had weeded out..





why do you do this to me my love..