I am done begging.
Neither dreams nor nightmares
would capture you. Your shadow
travels and hovers amongst the dead.
And what am I to do? When
I can never strain your brain anymore.
Not with the intensity of my proclivity.
I knew it wounds. But selfish as I am,
I needed it. My only cure.
Rightness in the day alighted
on what I had always been afraid to do.
Year after year, I waited
to summon enough guts
to pour the acid
straight into your glassy eyes.
Did it burn? I hope it did.
Please, not another glory
of your emotional withdrawal.
I've seen enough of that.
The cut you detected would disband.
Elsewise, seal my lips.
But only with the uttermost
of your untrained French kiss.
Because you wanted it. You. Not I.
And when I decisively fall
into an eternal slumber,
your might cannot repaint my blood.
For the love within your heart
is never true.
Now you know, but do you?
Do you know how much I love you?
Monday, February 20, 2012, 6:55 – 8:15 PM