In The Moment Of My Death Come And Collect Me With Passion - Poem by Lindsay Crosby
He passes through the last moments of my life like he walked through the war
Unscathed and oblivious and that’s what hurts most of all
He looks in and at things but says nothing
I asked him if he knew how people felt just before their death and if he did, did he care
He told me that he understood very little about the world and that he has always felt foreign to reason
I wondered how vacuous that must have sounded
Then I wondered about myself.
I am swept up on the shore of an uninhabited island looking colourless
I am like a dolphin trapped in a fisherman’s net and waiting to die
It should as I have imagined been an assumption but I know what surrounds me and I feel too much.
I feel that he is close to being like too many men but he is not a being in that sense
He might be in my imagination.
I feel something like an ache
I want him to touch me
I had him
I want him again
but not once did his expression change
I hoped that he would just mouth the words I wanted to hear
Oh yes he returns just like a man
A lousy rotten thief.
He will take my soul and bleach my bones for trophies
He will end my days in a catastrophe
“You’ll touch me first” I heard screamed
“ I’ll not bend to your wanton ways” I listened again
I watched as he came closer as he raised his hand to his mouth
I realized then. I was listening to myself.
How do I give in so easily?
How have I spent my life?
I shall die in shame and not know if the shape of a man or the haunting I have endured has taken me
He glides now
Yes he glides with confidence now.
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