This…

I blow with fury
Til the red in my face leaks blood
Trying as I might, to make you understand… Me
Recalling childhood demons that reside under my bed
Sheets being my force field against,
I want to cover myself head to toe from your onslaught
I stare into eyes emptier than a poor mans change cup
I ask.. Why is the game prominent in your version of love?
Does its pleasures exceed my lovemaking?
Is my tongue not long enough to please in comparison?
I am left dumbfounded, bewildered at the extent of your cold,
Even as you reach out to touch my hand with your shriveled empathy,
I shiver with its frozen gesture
Sorry but these words had to be birthed
For to encase them my angered ways would burst
Into the million pieces you killed from this love… This love…

copyright ©Axel Garcia

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