Photo by Josh Hild on Unsplash

Quarantine

I’m isolated. Not thinking; not screaming… just lost in my own thoughts.
Am I a thorn amongst lilies? The “precious” thread I’ve held for so long
chokes me till I vanish.
A virus I caught while holding on; unto a thread I thought would save me
it just wanted a taste of my pain.
Leaving me isolated alongside other convicts.
For I’m imprisoned in space for the choice that I made. I’m hospitalized
and as I stare at the doctors, they shake their heads slowly and sadly,
whispering gently, “There’s no cure… I’m sorry”.
Their voices sound faint, or is it my thought that’s fading?
Was it wrong that I touched one infected with love but now
I’m completely insane?
Is it fair that I hungered for passion and now I’m fed with anxiety and
pain?

For the doctors have no cure, yet my thoughts remain impure; and I
use the thread I grasped so tightly, to hang myself till I’m free; till I’m
reassured… ’till my pain is no more.

Is this me?
I know not really who is the next in line.
Who is willing to hold on to the thread… that thread – my dread.
Who is ready to be choked, till he can’t breathe, by love’s vines;
and be thrown down into hell’s busy quarantine.

I won’t consider it again… smirks.
‘Tis good to be finally free; ‘tis good to be me.
Sighs.

Photo by T on Unsplash

Let the Sleeping Dogs Lie

The whiskey eyes I drowned in, is where I died.

The feelings I masked so well resurrected, like a nightmare that felt so good; that

always kept me screaming your name till I couldn’t feel me.

There’s a shadow beside my bed and as I stare intently, passionately, I find myself

kissing pictures…. I’ve gone crazy.

And when I wipe the glass mirrors at work, I see you staring at my lips… I look away.

This is just torture.

I take my hand so I can’t let go; I’m just craving champagne – every red wine now looks

like the blood you took from me. And like a twig, you broke that connection.

That electricity that gave me life, you kissed it away.

Now I’m like a dead battery.

Walking dead.

With the memories that I fed on in my hand, I walk to the graveyard – the place I found you, and I place the memories gently beside you.

It’s time to let the sleeping dogs lie.

So I let you lie – dead in my mind.