Wordle #148

148

Your virus supports

The frame on which it preys.

I have a heart full of tricks,

Of safes that open at the nudge

Of your hard-pressed ear.

I receive no wages for enduring you

Though every now and then my mind

Goes up in flames braving

Your funereal breath and the refuse

Of its own failings.

When you die I’ll throw a party

Like none hitherto witnessed.

Your portrait a chameleon,

A constellation of pitiless courts

Dead center like a sulking deity.

Later I’ll weep, the pus

Of these troubled wounds

Leaking riotously over your effigy.

The moment your eyes close

Mine will again open

Full as they might be.

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14 responses to “Wordle #148

  1. W.O.W.

    I love this: “I receive no wages for enduring you”

    And that ending!

    “Later I’ll weep, the pus
    Of these troubled wounds
    Leaking riotously over your effigy.
    The moment your eyes close
    Mine will again open
    Full as they might be.”

    Oh my word. You completely rule.

  2. Whew. Thhrowing a party when they die. Finally finding freedom and being able to live your life to the full. Def felt.

  3. This is such a moving, powerful piece – filled with such depth of raging and raw emotion – and the power of the “evil” (and I mean this in a very honest, non-judgmental way) truth of wish to celebrate the ending of a binding so tight – it has choked life away.

    So well done Yves 😀

    Raw energy that will triumph – and ya, I think *you* totally kick ass XD

  4. Pingback: A Philosophy of Procrastination (for dVerse Poets & MindLoveMisery–Wordle 148) | POSTCARDS From PANACHE·

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