Banshee/ August 25, 2011

The tears I shed splintered off

Your shoulders of Ice,

You patted my back like a stranger,

Handing me a newspaper to stand on,

As you hailed your taxi,

Splashing tears back, the color of my skin.

Your heart must have been manufactured

During the war, cocking itself with ease,

Eager to explore the blood or wine,

Served at your table that last supper.

You are sleeping sound in floral prints,

Heart tucked between an armpit and your neck,

I was the wreck that day,

You left smiling like a banshee.

On the beach you pretended to be the sea,

The sun your private property,

Always a cigarette short, but planning months ahead,

You met a man who fixed anything you said,

But grew bored and unamused,

When your ego started to get bruised.

Kicking, shoving making your point,

You move to areas clear of debris, friendships,

There you scan for floating hearts you can chat up,

We meet later on a boat, but your intentions wouldn’t float

You swallowed your drink down like poison, I watched.

Later at the bar you enjoy the music I could tell,

I admit, we all fell under its spell

Only snapshots in the dark remain,

Of your matted fur and murder.

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