Burning candles that smell like him
Lights that flicker now so dim
Lick the wine that runs down my chin
Savor the flavor of Oxycontin
This room is dark and filled with smoke
My throat is closing as I start to choke
The door is closing and now I'm soaked
In blood that's running from my heart, broke
There's a broken tree in a pot by the door
It's grown three fruits that we've tasted before
Never ripened, we're impatient and young
We rip away the roots
Oh, how we could have sung
A song so beautiful
If we weren't hung
By ropes sewn by a crucible
Tied together with our tongues
I've drunk the wine of innocence
And only gained indifference
I've made sweet love to ignorance
No bliss, just broken ligaments
About the Creator
Ivy Rozen
Writer and poet with published articles, email campaigning experience, teaching experience, and a completed poetry residency with Free Verse, where I finished my first book of poems, Runcation, on sale now at www.IvanaWrites.com
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