Love left me
questioning the dark,
screaming for answers,
then jumping as the answers
barked an echo in reply,
repeating my pleas
in increasing desperation,
deepening depression,
clawing intimidation.
It left me talking in riddles to the
shadows that don't talk back.
Wondering if anything
was real, or if this was all
just a trick of the dusk light.
Shivering as its cold fingers
touched my spine. Icicles
hanging over my heart.
Lying that I was fine.
Love left me
wandering darkened places.
My heart fell heavily
to the slaughterhouse floor -
still beating, pulsing, bursting, aching.
Sawdust and copper,
a splash of crimson on my canvas,
as I was flung against the wall,
flogged until my skin started to peel.
Then it dropped me.
A forest, no map or compass -
just the dirt under my torn feet,
and a sign saying “Don't pass.”
I staggered. I grasped
as thorny bushes grabbed
me back. I gasped as love
was just a horny demon
choking my last breath, for I couldn't
say the words I needed to lay to rest.
Lodged tight. Don't do that to me.
The words ripped out
of my gaping chest cavity:
To be, or not to be.
I was left questioning
my pencil-thin grip on reality.
Love left me
questioning my sanity.
And when it spoke. I heard it.
A whisper. It cursed.
It spoke in reverse.
I heard it. I froze.
In verse it whispered.
And I was lost
in the wilderness,
in the old wind that blows.
For this wasn't love,
but a trickster - a demon
portraying a light-giver.
A mimic, a spectre.
A song playing out of key.
And ice started to scrape
through my tar-like insides,
like the sound of that grinding tone,
as I gasped, I moaned to say what I'd tried
so hard to accept: This isn't love.
You are keeping me kept. A pet.
Love left me.
When I closed that door tight.
And I questioned the darkness.
For darkness always answered me
when I called her at night.
And her answer...
You will find a love
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