let me set the scene, babe:
the music plays.
the ticking of the clock like a pained gasp in
caught at a crossroads with my eyes put out
I don't know where I'm going or which the right path is.
you hover like an afterimage in this unwanted panorama.
you hurt me, because I love you.
you have me caught in a trap of thorns growing into my heart
pricking crimson and slamming my torn throat closed.
you say I have you.
every time I see your ghost in my memory I die more
chasing after you into the unknown, wide-eyed, feral in my fear.
I howl and wail that I'm letting you go
then my fingers tighten around the noose.
you say you have me.
the rain bullets from the sky like a curse muttered beneath the breath
and I can feel the ache of perhapses settling into my bones
pooling in every joint like slivers of glass
slicing into my flimsy facade and nesting deep in sinewed anguish
I feel the cartilage rip. I feel the stone in my chest.
I feel your hand in mine, but I am so afraid.
maybe it's cowardice; easier to have nothing
to flagellate oneself raw
than it is to take a risk and bruise over and over
while chasing a nuclear warhead of maybes.
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