Writing |
 I reach out, and feel the sharp pain of rejection. I look into reflective eyes that shroud my soul's tomb. I see the hateful sneer, and satiated flesh. I remember the lonely nights, and tear soaked pillow. Sounds deep from within the recesses of my mind, Rumble forward like a death train searching for my heart. At the crossroads I turn, and look back one last time. I bid adieu, and watch as the skin crawls from that body, Fleeing away from the slime that is called a heart. A mirthless cackle erupts, and catches in my throat, I realize that this at last is my freedom. I walk away, and never again fathom that face, The lips that coaxed, and then filled me with promised lies, I miss them not. They weren't there, only a cold figment, A painful nightmare that I managed to survive. ©1999 Candalee Swayze Dedicated to Tony Martin who blows into pots and makes them breathe. |
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