I was almost her
Before the bony fingers
Of time
Began to tug my face
Like putty, sinkening
Under his merciless groping
Pinching and plying my skin into
Mean, furrowed clefts
She’s beautiful
And when she laughs
Her hair lifts off her breasts
Her eyes search for the vulnerable
And the yearning.
We suffer while
She occupies the space where we all breathe
I feel myself disappear.
I examine with lumbering dread
My hands
As they evaporate
My legs that blur into a vapy fog
The contours of my face soften into obscurity
My mind is a flurry
Of distress
And in the wedge of space
I still possess
I perch on my haunches,
A vulture,
Brimming with despair
She is my torment
And I am a creature of remorse.
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