They listened
To the whispered lies
That sounded
Like blessings from heaven
While
All of dreamland
Became a whorish nightmare
And feathered pillows
Were the gravesite
For broken tear drops
From a heart’s desperation
Calling it love…
They tasted,
That special blend
Of fluids
Rich and thick,
Warm,
Like a heated brandy
In the middle of the cold night
In hopes that their service
Will prove better
Than a groins’ lust,
Yet,
How disappointing
It was
For their lips to have savored
The residue
Of an empty fantasy…
Watch
As they parade
Their naked asses
Like basement bargain mannequins
In search of love,
On the avenues of wretched
Sweet bitterness,
As the tire tracks
On their backs
Become longer and longer…
Feel the gleam
In their eyes
Fade
Paying respects,
To the worn
Body parts
That flew into battle
Shamelessly dying in vain
Like smothered pork chops
In a frying pan
Giving new meaning
To a woman’s worth,
Drowning in a gravy
They thought was love…
Stolen were the moments
That can’t be regained
Treasures
That made them special
Now only attract flies
As the memories
Of them
Hang on the mantle piece
Like sweet rich chocolates
In a variety pack,
No longer maturing
Just growing old
As their fables
Become legends,
And their salacious deeds
Are not secret and precious
Anymore…
Listen!
To the footsteps
Of a heart’s moan
In agony,
Revenge,
Justice,
Closure,
How sweet is the prick
Of a loving rose’s thorn?
When patience was cast aside
And
Settling for less
Was thrown away
Like cigarette ashes
In the sea
Of discontent…
And somewhere,
There’s a widow
Who bares the mark
Alone
Deep in meditation
Armed with batteries
And a dream
Unaware of the thieves
In the temple
For she soars
On opaque wings
And call it love…
Verbalskillz
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