the lines of your face,
your eyes, sad in my history
it's not a mystery
that pain has become my world,
flags of surrender unfurled
as I kneel broken in defeat.
Wet tears against my pillow
my weeping willow
that shades the burning sun
has become my solitary
protector.
Rejected not by will
but by circumstance,
I took a chance
to walk this path
and become the aftermath.
My throat burns as it struggles
against my body huddled
in fetal positions
wishing on superstition
warring against the urge to spell
and damn this all to hell.
So familiar this feeling
of never healing
of riding the crest
before it smashes against my chest.
I must erase all contact
let my emotions retract
but I can only react
for nothing is more real
than this emptiness I feel.
Left standing alone against the crowd
I want to shroud my aching soul
amidst the snakish coil
that pulls like muddy soil
to drown me in the quicksand
as I pray for the reaching of hands
to grasp my saddened face.
This is no longer my place
I have been deserted
diverted by one who flirted
with destiny and lost
My love has been the cost.
Back again at the end
never to pretend to know winning
or the satisfaction of yearning
Only the knowing of absense
that burns my flesh.
venom