Tuesday, May 8, 2012

White Room

Your lips possessed a fire pressed lightly
Gentle and warm, with no reason to fight
I was the beheaded lily, attempting to regrow.
My foundation already shaken
I revealed to you, my friend,
a sweet smelling and slightly sweating hand
With which you used to pull me closer,
with a touch of excitement.
But I misunderstood your purpose or you misunderstood your malice
I thought you held peace within your embrace
but I was strung and laced with oiled string
That were set aflame and burned grooves into my collarbone
And something thrilling,
tinged with a fear that I tried to overlook and bury,
Unearthed itself little by little
Anxiety building,
growing so tall that I had to force myself to let go
But it wasn’t soon enough
I hit the ground.
I shattered.
My anger died and was reborn into a monster
that I had hoped would consume us both
But it’s only me that stares out of this white window,
sitting on this white bed,
Looking out at a world that I won’t rejoin
Until I piece back together what I thought was mine.

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