strychnine.

The pain flows like

Honeyed poison,

Rolling

Sticking

And

Tumbling

Drop over tortured drop,

The sweet oozing mess

Weighing down my

Naked lashes, sealing

My lids to your cruelty

Is this the viscous retribution

Of a thousand shrouded secrets

Now settled snugly in the

Stasis of my breast?

after all of this time,

the truth has come round again

after all of this time,

we’re falling apart again

and the mumbled mute murmurs

of moments in time

have murdered my myst’ry

of Maker Divine…

i wonder- when you rise

in the morning

if your first thought is of

me

or if it is of

the life you could have without

me.

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