Disillusionment with love - Part I

Your fingers taste of honey- how.


Door stops. A door stopper hits
your teeth closed clenches your tongue like
a wooden peg. Bathroom door
was it the front door
the gate
slams
shut
The stopper doesn't work anymore,
can't keep the door from closing:
you cannot talk you say
tongue clenched in a wooden peg;
cannot talk to her anymore. She knows
the feeling;
when her ribs cracked
in the frost she grafted her lips
with two pieces curving upwards
so she could smile again,
and it's hard to talk to you, too,
each time a mouth opens opening wounds
just so you know-

on moonlit nights she bares her chest and tells you
punch me, punch me over the heart
I cannot hear it beating,
make it start again,
make me feel the pain
you aim at the windpipe and she hisses
Honey spills out of her throat; gurgles
gushes out of her ears and spills over your open palms
over the heart she screams and her eyes have turned
waxen she is terrified that she is dead
and the moon floods over hollow eyes
fills them with bowls of white light
but at the same time did her smile still remind you
of the girl you once loved

Mother, the pain.



I loved and I loved and I lost you