The aftermath of your deception numbs like snow beneath my bare feet. My tourniquet of fishing wire brings no relief, but there is freedom in the sound of my skin bruising. My blood clots in your name. Your devastation is legendary – as was your romance.
Too many times the path of least resistance was my chosen direction. Temporary peace from a cracked sky. Burning page after burning – pre-determined page. I wrote that end long ago. Often I closed my eyes, but I always knew the direction of the wind. Holding up my finger to test, dipping my toe in to ease my way. I refuse pity even though my wounds are deep. Running underground and with motions swift – while I am still floundering upstream.
Your language is empty – poverty and earthquake stricken. Broken buildings of your soul lay upon my limbs and I haven’t eaten for days. You manage to always strike quickly with each falling sword of tongue and hand. I gasp for breath beneath the weight of your heavy but so very empty grasp. I am challenged by your eyes as they attack like daggers. Stumbling upon your back, you pin me up against every wall that stands in your way.
Every wall that looks at you with indifference
Every wall that displays even an ounce of weakness
My hands feel like the biggest barrier to redemption. They keep me here listening to the outside while my true life crumbles within a bubble of my own past, present and put-off future. The morning comes again while the moon has left me here with only what you give.
There was so much you could have given me this morning
A touch from your sweet lips
The taste of your tongue
I could have been drenched in the ecstasy of your finger tips
Lost within your soulful smile
I should have awoken to the sounds of the morning
Breathing down my side
I was awakened by the leather of your belted words
And the creaking of my stunted heart
No effort for my healing
I am captured in this forgotten mourning
Twisted in this laid out fate
Drunk amidst your desperate mentions
Lost behind a rescue
Too little too late
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