so this is how we break her heart
she whispers,
fireflies in her irises.
I am tasting dust and copper.
My jaw clamps down on my tongue,
between grit and blood, warmth
is like sugar.

his voice is a little shaky,
that's the actual sound of
a shattered soul
she whispers.
choking, gagging on acrid
tears. They lodge themselves
between vocal chord and
larynx.

I've given you grip of
flesh, in order for you to
rip it to pieces.
she does not whisper.
Instead, caresses baby-child
hair, in claws. A Lurid succubus
with gentle, piercing fangs.

Life does not please her,
but the ghost of a goodbye,
the lack of closure, where a
baby-child will never understand,
and will always be the fruit of broken
bonds.

12/02/2007