... Your name, a stab wound in the neck. Memories of you, moldy coffee grounds and soggy biscuits; your taste, spoiled milk.
Black, oily tendrils spill from my dying lips each time I say your name in my head.
I do not say it out loud
You are she now, I must remember.
She...her.
She was the only one I would have completely submitted to, had she only asked.
Her juices, sublime.
She ruined me for the rest of you. Cold and dark, her love is the shadow in my eyes. These bloodstained years, ashes, weightless.
I cannot love anyone now. I gave what little I had to her, and she killed it.
I let her
This purging of her, will it ever end? So many dead memories taking up precious space. So many lies, so many lies. A soiled sanctuary, dripping in poison.
My dearest and darkest love, my only.
They were all for you, these poems. These futile attempts to reconcile my reality with my guts. Even the ones that weren't for you carried your shadow.
Her, not you. I must remember This one broke me because she didn't know how to wield the immense power I gave her. She was careless.
This has to stop. Soon.
I want to hold someone else and not think of...her.
You
I want to make everything right.
No
I want revenge. I want her to suffer.
These dark reflections from my nothing inside are innocuous.
Pale skin, bleach and rotten milk. Lies and lies and lies.
Her grey garden is barren but I still have sight. She was supposed to pluck my eyes. Communion, this eating of my flesh and drinking of my blood has left me bereft of anything worth wanting.