In love with a broken man

I’m still in love with a broken man.

Who’s lost his way, deep in a cave, lined with weeds of pain.

Who’s love for me, drove us, insane.

I often think to back then.

When we danced in the sun, waiting by the bus stop, and his

big brown eyes, sleek thick brows, staring down at me.

And with those lips, soft as a newborn skin, he played with my coppered sun,

black, wavy, hair.

And with his hands and soft olive palms, joyfully jiggled my bum.

He was beautiful then.

A wonderful man...

Until, he changed one day.

Wandering aimlessly in a haze of white sands, fog and lies.

Spewing hurtful words, in lieu of praise and, “I love you.”

Sometimes, while

looking me dead in my eyes.

A living ghost, noosed in guilt, taken from me, when I loved them the most.

Wrists chained; love maimed.

©I.M. "That Girl Muse".

Blackened eyes, watching him walk away.