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What Becomes of Us?

by Michael Brandon Marchese about a year ago in heartbreak

Michael Marchese

Don't know what I said

What I did

To deserve

Your disdain

Can't explain

Such ineffable

Pain

Upon seeing you clearly

No longer the same

Seem to feel

How you felt

Underneath the moon's wane

Beneath stars in the city light

Night sky

Aflame

With the feigning

Romancing, entrancing

Pretense

Of portentous affections

Just lust I suppose

Just a fickle slight ripple

Effect on our clothes

And our hands, and our skin,

And our lips, and our tongues,

And our ears to mellifluous

Pounding heart drums

Not the one of course

Just the first one

Whom I sung

Of in ages

My serenade marked

By the notes on these pages

And gave them all to you

In genuine tune

With the irony wry,

Hung to dry kind of mood

That you choose to undo

To eschew from embracing

I'm wasting away now

My steps, I'm retracing

To make sense of where

Apart paths got diverted

And blurted out, drunken confessions

Converted

You into this empathy-lacking

Remorseless

Contortionist

Bending my form maladies

To amorphousness

Black abyss, back to the bottle

Forgetting this

Ever occurred

In rejection emmured

Where I still do not know

What I did to deserve

Your disdain

Can't explain it

In words except pain

heartbreak

About the author

Michael Brandon Marchese

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