The Afterlife of Love

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One of these days I’d die of the fatality of this affair.

It’s etching, this feeling.

My lungs are emptying

And I stare in the space

Where once love stood

Wetting my mouth and my cunt with its sweet appraisal.

Now there’s ashes in my mouth

And the pits have replaced my eyesockets

I am ugly, it seems.

Love won’t approach me.

Dressed exactly how I want it to be, dressed.

In dried brown leaves and smelling like you.

I had been dangling.

From one object to the other

And from one feeling to the other.

My mind trying to find an orgasmic pleasure.

And it did,

Oh! But my sweet etching love

When did you change?

Leaving me pricking my own skin

Watching it shed blood, in perfect round dots.

I am perfectly out of my mind now

Scared of every approaching beast dressed in the most beautiful costumes

Listen to me,

I feel a lot

So much that my mind starts abusing my heart

And threatens to kill it if it starts complaining.

So,

I keep quiet you know.

And watch you slip away

Loving you still, for my heart might die if I don’t.

 

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