She could’ve been beautiful
But the makeup on her face
Amplified every imperfection
Made her seem unreal
Like a slipshod animation
*
We talked for hours
About philosophies
Too convoluted to consume
About ambitions
And the despair
That shapes realities
She would have sacrificed
Everything for the stage,
Instead, on her knees
Choking down creation
*
I find myself standing
On the same corner
Night after night
Surrendering
To the instincts
Of inhuman men
Selling pieces of my soul
For the abstractions
Of a primed syringe
*
We bought
An apartment together
On the lower end
No furniture or food
Only conversation,
The sustenance of fools
I remember
The hours piled upon hours
Of words so casually strewn
I remember
The weight of her shrinking skin
Defenseless beneath
The weight
Of our transient bones
I remember
Watching her fall
Shapelessly
Into addiction
My spirit too weak
To stall the descent
*
I opened the door
To find her on the toilet
In my sagging robe
Hair unwashed
Body slouching lifeless
Against a tiled wall
And neither my hands
Nor my breath
Could draw her back
From the widowing shawl
Of a commiserating death
*
I couldn’t stop screaming
I love you
Until my voice was gone
And I had to mouth
The words instead
I wish I’d told her
When I had the chance
When she was crying
For hours on end
When she was screaming
I’m better off dead
When she hated me
For getting in the way
And herself more
For what she’d become
Those words never
Hurt so much
As when unsaid
I wished I’d screamed them at her
Over and over again
Until she went deaf
So no other words could ever enter
And cause her pain again
*
Now I am standing
In her place
On a modest stage
A modest crowd genuflecting
As I start to play
And whisper the lyrics she left me
I imagine her in my place
Squeezing the microphone
Lips as round and full
As an orgasm
*
Here I stand claiming
What time could not
From my heart cleanse
In her place
Picking up the dreams
That she left
*
This together with Paper Heart is the remnants of a novel abandoned and lost long ago. Paper Heart was written from the female’s perspective and Painted Dragon from the male’s perspective. I’ve done extensive editing of this poem over the years but I’ve never been satisfied by my efforts.
mindlovemisery 