Betrayal Poem by Michael Gale

Your mouth might open wide, to haunt and hurt this heart...
It surrounds to all it's alienating fringe, to choke and hurt it's part.

It easily forgives when corrupted upon, but rarely can survive...
All the hurt from Your words to cut and shear, for sure, remain
Myself to revive...

This mouth that seems to maim, to ego's solid might...
Inflamed in total Irony, of Ire's only plight.

If at all, We might to easily or harshly as stubbornly, heal...
From those words in arrows, sharpest in it's feel.

The pain, the pain that was hurled uneasily to abstain....
Shall reach across from time's one own timed,
in zone as dripping, stain.

A stain of red, just like a bloodiest broken heart...
As We now enjoy, all It's saddest, hued, en-dart.

Pointed all the way, to never sway and start...
Be this hurting thing, this broken, broke down, heart.

You never knew of what You said, I'll never be naive...
The love that grew from deep within, shall never seem to leave.

But in it; s empty spot, shall be a place to hide...
To mourn upon this rock, that rubs until, it's died.

It's died it's died, in lying state, torment...
The bloodied stain has not yet dried,
Until it's emptied and echoing-lament.

Sorrow is the story which leaks out, as through a pipe...
Be this broken line, rotting softest, as softest wined as-ripe.

The pain, this pain which leaves Me not...
Ever more does be this pain, as pained as if I've got.

Upon tomorrow's awakening do I strive to silent, be....
Freer than the liar, beneath that sin filled tree.

Will I ever land to the hills so utter free? ...
Will I ever be, the one so happily?

At long last, will I tend to be...
That one and only one, once loved so tenderly.