It still hurts
whatever I do
wherever I go
whatever the season
for no reason
it hurts.
You remain in me
like a ghost, like pain
like an unpaid loan, like yesterday
like a whistling train.
...and it hurts.
I can't breathe.
It's not that noose, that kills at breakneck speed,
but slow drowning in the tight tie knot of my daily asphyxia,
Your name aches, like a scarlet letter on me.
Not the pin prick of an expert needle and ink,
but the branding in a slow burn, all over me.
I can't drink anything other than your venom.
Not the sweet laudanum poison targeting my cerebellum
but the bitter hemlock when I bite my lips till they bleed, crying helplessly.
Crucified by memories we made.
Not the arthritic razor blades,
but the sharp thorns of all the nights without you,
knowing you're with somebody else.
Deaf to the world around me.
Not like the sudden sonic booms of jets flying to the rescue,
but the muffled, numbed echo of my voice in a velvet coffin..
Condemned to an ever repeating death sentence.
Not the quick fall of the guillotine, separating head from body
but the patient cowardice that keeps me from picking up the phone.
Fearful of what lies ahead.
not the frightening portrait of a tired future
but a life sentence in this prison of desperation, doubt and regret.
