My liver aches and heart double-takes
as my ears digiest your bullshit.
Yet. Again.
Filtering toxic, ironic, back-track-able, Freudian slips.
Look down this empty glass;
a baron vessel has more empathy for me then you.
I drink without breath as if you were part of this whiskey trickle,
downing a cup-full of self-delusion, namely hope.
This place is no hostel,
so why is this skeleton,
who has lived in the dark of your closet for months,
dejecting the colours and outlines I left in your bed?
Old words which have expired
give new ones apathy of breath and sound.
Thus, closure was a matter of time,
and you have become a matter of who.
Author notes
I don't usually like swear words in my pieces but I felt that the curse was the only specific type of word that got across the emotion involved.
I was going to put a (?) after the last word, 'who', to convey an idea of not knowing the person, but I think it got that across without adding strange tid-bits like the question mark in bracets.
Comments
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I really like how raw and powerful this is.. You generally write very differently but i like this style, i can relate to it more
loving the Freudian slips bit and 'downing a cup-full of self-delusion'
Been there!! well done xxx
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Excellent
I've been here so many times. And the way you wrote it, made me feel it all over again. Absolutely superb. And not what I was expecting from the title! An excellent read :-).
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