Joyelle Osburn

The Anguished

I have replaced you, pitifully,
many times in rooms
within my soul.
Everywhere, there are
passageways curling
boxes of draggled vesture.

My spirit, like the
static of negligee,
gums and forms into
a faultless mount.
As it clings to me,
I set aflame with desire.

Close your eyes.
Let me blind you.

Assassinate me
until I bleed red
like holly berries.
Then, I will wear their
spiked leaves as a crown.

You can never reach
to enclose yourself
within the dying breath
my lungs hold.
I feel as though you
are abashed as if
the mind has been
carved available for eating?

Take what is seen as I
lie here naked and naive;
the last pig to carnage.

You have stolen everything.

Tonight, while you undress my history,
I mix my drink with stars
and toast to you.

Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 7, 2005

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Read poems about / on: history, red, star