Compulsion Poem by G J Salgado

When the blood ran out it left you cold. I was the one that held your hand in the dark. The wrinkles in your skin show me that you've gotten old. It was like picking at a tree with rotten bark. I held it in my hand not until it slipped away. I found you among uncommon places. I had yet to learn you'd taken me there. Those there wore the masks of many faces. None of which we've been aware. We tasted the salt of many seas. Upon our tongues we felt the ocean. We felt its bitter disease. As we drank from the toxic potion.