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Description
My bed is an ocean-
waves of blue cotton and liquid layers of wool
stretch out from my body,
surrounding, spreading for minute-miles in each direction
while I float atop them,
alone beneath the salt-grey of my bedroom ceiling.

Tentacles of polished ebony pulse from every shadow,
slink noiselessly along the hardwood floor
slowly-slowly-and my eyes are globes of marble
still and sightless,
centered on the impossible image of your face.

Reflected in the paint above me-
grainy and dull, are eyes-
blue as my own, and cheeks, that lying smile
false strength radiating from each tortured pore-
your healthful flush was stolen from a bottle,
and within the firm white of your teeth,
there is rot.

Crimson tides course the canyons of my body
as I lay, heat dripping from tired flesh to the mattress below.
It warms, and swells, and begins to spread,
drawing me with iron gentleness into thickly fluid core.
Even as I sink and ropes of black swarm up to choke me,
my eyes are on yours,
gazes locked in fatalistic embrace, hard-edged and bitter.
Oh God- I cannot look away.

You drown me here, in my own longing-
your eyes are cold: they do not know me.
I need to hear you scream, voice raised in passionate protest;
I want to see you weep, hot tears of shame scalding leathered flesh;
I pray to know you breathe, precious life beating still within your withered shell,
But there is nothing. Your portrait remains as it was,
unmoving, eyes calm, indifferent.

And yet, I forgive you, and with it comes
exquisite release, as the blackness fades
and the shackles loosen on my wrists.
I forgive because I know that
you would not notice either way.
My forgiveness could no more touch you than my hatred, or my love.
You are gone away,
untouchable,
intangible as the mist of sorrow
that your absence has inspired in me.
You are unworthy of such devotion.

I forgive you.

Description
My bed is an ocean-
waves of blue cotton and liquid layers of wool
stretch out from my body,
surrounding, spreading for minute-miles in each direction
while I float atop them,
alone beneath the salt-grey of my bedroom ceiling.

Tentacles of polished ebony pulse from every shadow,
slink noiselessly along the hardwood floor
slowly-slowly-and my eyes are globes of marble
still and sightless,
centered on the impossible image of your face.

Reflected in the paint above me-
grainy and dull, are eyes-
blue as my own, and cheeks, that lying smile
false strength radiating from each tortured pore-
your healthful flush was stolen from a bottle,
and within the firm white of your teeth,
there is rot.

Crimson tides course the canyons of my body
as I lay, heat dripping from tired flesh to the mattress below.
It warms, and swells, and begins to spread,
drawing me with iron gentleness into thickly fluid core.
Even as I sink and ropes of black swarm up to choke me,
my eyes are on yours,
gazes locked in fatalistic embrace, hard-edged and bitter.
Oh God- I cannot look away.

You drown me here, in my own longing-
your eyes are cold: they do not know me.
I need to hear you scream, voice raised in passionate protest;
I want to see you weep, hot tears of shame scalding leathered flesh;
I pray to know you breathe, precious life beating still within your withered shell,
But there is nothing. Your portrait remains as it was,
unmoving, eyes calm, indifferent.

And yet, I forgive you, and with it comes
exquisite release, as the blackness fades
and the shackles loosen on my wrists.
I forgive because I know that
you would not notice either way.
My forgiveness could no more touch you than my hatred, or my love.
You are gone away,
untouchable,
intangible as the mist of sorrow
that your absence has inspired in me.
You are unworthy of such devotion.

I forgive you.