Hammerhead

Sitting in a setting

not unlike

my own death,

and I taste tobacco

from her last cigarette.

Pouring over the passages

of a long lost love poem,

an epic in any others hands;

but to my eyes

a reprieve from indifference.

I dance alone in shadows 

not wanting the luxury of 

my emotions to get the best of me.

And little by little

I feel the killing 

start

all

over

again.

So I float here

but not yet in anger

and I wonder...

Is it safe for me to fall apart.

Reviews

[Chris]

Hell of a question... I'd risk hearing this in the early morning hours.

[Misery]

Dear Abigale, these words are invasive and intriguing.
Were these words directed outward they would be disturbing, but directed inward (as so many of your deep creations are) these words are painfully tragic. A life of slow death inflicted one identical day after another.

Your words are adored, Abigale, and your words spring from your life, thus your life is adored.

[Abigale LeCavalier]

Thank you so much for your kind words and for reading my work, it really means a lot to me! :)

[Misery]

You are surely welcome, dear poet.