As Told By Lovesick Poem by Amy Marie

I am sick and dying –
In the comfort of my bedroom.
My black hair drapes down like aging curtains – dull and thinning.
As Destiny steals the color from my lips – Age uses it as a treat for her
Alluring ice-blue eyes. My creaky hard-wood floor is the frame work
Of all that 'remains' of my home in the female psyche.

The closet – is open.
Look into it – and watch it glow for all the public
To witness and record with a thousand private journals –
Bright and Decroated! Oh as the roof cracks –
And pieces land on my brown hood –
Solitude consoles my wretched life
With two soft and youthful hands. Most definitely –
I'm bound to swoon on my beads while –
I'm alive against my will.