you've become a
bread and water diet.
i've felt my insides
begin to eat themselves,
your disdain meeting me
for my afternoon tea.

i taste you, bitter,
on my pallet, gather your
roses and thorns.
i grind them, my mortar
and stone.

you've been taken into
a fine paste, placed upon
wooden bowls and
left to dry. when the powder
forms, i'll scatter you
along barren lands
and watch you fly
along the wind.

i'll break my fast
to taste the light,
and still, you'll be gone
to me.

01/10/2004

Author's Note: kim decina! you wonderful girl you. she's the muse, inspiration, and title of this piece.

Posted on 01/10/2004
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe