Your handshake
is about as firm as a thousand year old bridge
and thats when I realized
you were crumbling

The Blueberry tried

to escape from my lips

but instead

it ended in my hand

and back to my lips again.

The fall, for it, must have felt a lifetime
after dodging death once
but
like all things
something found it
a gentle touch turned crushing
snuck up from under it
bringing to the brink and past again

I feel its little soul
squeeze out on my tongue
bitter
sweet
almost overripe, but cooked in brown sugar sauce
it whirled from death so many times
that when I finally came
I found it in its best suit
and I robbed it even of that

Or perhaps, the suit of old age
of ripening,
isn't quite its best
maybe
when it was unripened
and pale
on the bush
perhaps that would have been more fitting
for me to rob him
of his style

Thanks for the gift you left at the front door--
I wept cause I figured you left for good
'till I opened the box in horror
to find a zombie black mamba instead of my heart.

Thanks for the living dead snake
constricting around my brain
making me think of nothing but you
eschewing daily life.
The venom takes away my appetite--
the sun is too bright and sunny
so I stay inside my room filled with flies
writing about the time you left this
living dead snake instead of my heart.

It keeps squeezing and gnawing--
it's venom fills me with haunting memories
of the times I didn't see you slowly pulling away--
hugs stiffened
your kisses listless
and eyes drowning
while the sound of your voice sings disinterest.

Luckily you gave to me
a zombie black mamba instead of my heart
so I can always remember our time together.