The Chasm

Sometimes Farewell
Is really just goodbye,
tinged in the sensation
that I will see you again


And sometimes Goodbye
is really just the
of a body meeting
the force of the bullet.
It’s tounge a reticent mess
of a scorpions tail
attempting to make love
with your mortality.


In any case love and war
Peace and its absence thereof
still hurts like


Because not even fire and brimstone
ice and desire
could ever pluck
your life
from its entangled destiny


and no matter how the three
one eyed women
over their lucid pot of iniquity
attempting to play backgammon
with the fates
they could never conjure
enough desolation
for the sensation
of a heart being rendered apart.


Simply because this life we live
is no Shakespeare induced plot.
It cannot be surmised in a few
precious acts.


because at the end of the day
your story reads like
a child with attachment issues
a girl with a vile of poison in her hand
and a dagger
that tells the whole world
this book should have
simply been left on the shelf.


It’s only purpose
a dust collector
inside the body of a classic.

~Melodic Rose~


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