He is tortured duality,

eyes glistening vacantly,

lips parted callously,

self-inflicted amnesia

from words spoken previously;


he used to be family,

one I sought fruitlessly

love me with purity;

a long-winded fantasy,

naive imagining

charming his way into hearts

of the frail,

undefended attachment,

blinded by veils

promises spoken,

secrets untold,

filthy webs, decay and mold;

don’t think to speak freely,

calm winds of new hope,

seize the moment to leave

like a raft or a rope,

leave the ripples in water,

cleanse body and soul,

of residual thirst,

unquenched by the salt.

Emily C. Poésie © 2018

Poetry Prompt Sunday

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