 |
| Image - Charcoal by Sylvia Slaff Langer, circa 1930s |
I don't blame you
you had to go.
You had to go
like those before you.
You couldn't stay any longer.
You didn't trust what I could do
to you or to myself
because I'm twisted.
I'm so twisted
I get myself tangled,
stranded in the rotting stench
of the skeletons in my closet.
Too many phantoms
spilling out the cracked door,
I can't shut them in.
Yesterdays...
when my passions became obsessions
obsessions turning into addictions.
when I had many mates,
when I could have many babies.
Babies I dissolved
in my forbidding womb of hatred.
Now their screams haunt me,
my dreams are tainted crimson
by the innocent infant breaths I extinguished.
What I fear the most
is not the noises in my head,
but the silent whisper of my conscience.
Though my addictions never seem to stop.
I also fear
I shall be lonely forever
The one after you
will be gone like you
and those before you
because I'll tell the same twisted lies I told you
