August 17, 2015
8:15 am
(Unhealthy Love)
My My My
My hands are weary
From caressing your distant memories covered in window
Pained glass.
My ears are numb hearing the
Thunderstorm in the heartache of your cry
My back carries the loaded bags
Stuffed with mangled dreams and twisted thoughts down the road to nowhere.
My eye bleed from the blind side blows to the gut and face pretending can't erase black and blue of you
My My My,
What type of life
You live
Where we learn to forgive
And
Ignore
The core
Of your own needs
Your mental abyss
Crowded with secret hells
Deplorable smells
As you regurgitate the pits
Of what was your
Loving relationship
Deborah R Shaw
The Silent Stalker
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