I had lost you months before you went,
every night I dreamt of you, angry.
I was tired when I got the message. Spent.
All I seemed to do was wait, your loyal devotee.
Then the text from your dad telling me
the rope you used had been pulled tight.
Shock rose up like a screaming banshee,
while there you were, hanging in the night.
In too many corners of my mind I saw you,
swinging, tempestuously loving until the end,
throwing me what you thought was due,
attacking when you were supposed to defend.
And the one I thought I loved could not be found
when you wrapped your arms dangerously around.
By Samantha Boarer
No comments:
Post a Comment