Gasping for breath, you drain every element from me.
The core of my being is at your mercy.
I want to be embedded in your thoughts, the ember in your glowing eyes.
Things are not as easy drowning in your lies.
I'd rather struggle for air than breathe without your touch.
Everlasting, is it really that much?
I suppose it is, when envisioning kids behind that picket fence with fresh, full lips, and the black depths of my cynicism quickly relinquishing the thought.
We entangle ourselves in each other's hands.
Whispering hollow promises, and spreading pretty stories romantically in one another's ear.
Simplistic as all these fantasy ideas sound, getting my way isn't so easy my dear.
The malicious gremlins perch on the trees, where the school children below should be spelling the action of you kissing me.
The streets are gloomier than what you discover in Poe.
The citizens grow fangs, thirsty for blood and human compassion.
I wake up in panting screams, your side of the bed a ghost of your devilish ills.
Forever instilled in my brain the pathetic visionary of you caressing my cheek, exchanging beautifully sculpted rings.
As the wrinkles crease in my skin, I cease the day of ever accumulating a mental cabinet of all these childish dreams again.
Dead as my father's decaying flesh, the revery of you shall mesh with the rest of the abandonment that's consumed my ever continuous life.
© Copyright 2016 Kathleen Megquier. All rights reserved.
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