dining on ashes

i see now why you ran away; i embody your misdirected passion, i showed you pleasure in sin, the animal within, and i introduced you to who you really are. i’m a scapegoat for weakness; you could not bear to witness one enslaved by dreams, you would not be party to my honesty, because i touched and talked to every adam that made me. you chose simple gods full of lies and instant remedies. you are their nun. you refrigerate with icy words and stares your dry, unbaptized soul, and feed me ashes to atone. and i have been tortured like i have inflicted pain; i have slept like shit, cursed our bed and will again, i have slit my wrists to bleed you dry, now two steps farther and still alive. you say, “lover, my eyes will not be raped; i will not look upon opposite grace, i will force myself to selective see, my Bete Noir, no scribbled prose or poetry will undo what you have become to me.” and you chant, “i will heal, i will embrace you but. i will kiss, i will forgive you but. i’m your soulmate, your confidant, but you are weak where i am strong, you write to weep and i escape that psalm.” then last night you whispered in my sleep, “somewhere i still love you; i miss your incomplete, wicked eyes, your consuming passions and resulting lines, i believe in your confusing gifts, for my beloved, you were my first. and last. my only poet.” Written May 8th, 2002 © on Feb 22 2002 07:36 AM PST   18 • 0 • 1