The crooks and crannies of my soul

stung at the sharp moon crescent

carving me.

And I lay cradling my soul



Our eyes merely lingered,

shot through the hourglass of time.

Your transparent whiteness should not

Afford such string in my spine.



My conscience lies in debt

With understanding of

You.

Yet my soul lives in enriched by

Your ivory skull

  

I know that my presence  

is merely a glance that doesn't hold a shadow,

but you grasp my thoughts and strangle them

Until there’s no space left



My mind is convicted of your fever,

a disease that lingers in my arteries.

You did not merely skirt my periphery,

you dragged a blade, cursing me,

eruptions of tantalizingly immoral pain,

a pendulum of knives

left to hang in silence,

swinging from one end to the other,

Then your emptiness shadows me.

Close to the edge.



You left me.

I should never have met you.