He draws my soul out of its package, sealed. We dined on news about his plans to accompany me to the grave I refuse to enter.
"Drink" he mutters, with a smile so compendious I could see it from behind. This vile taste lingers in my mouth. That is all the sorrow you've offered me.
With consideration, he selects these words that will castigate me. Convinced that I would surrender, prayer chose me. I'm no believer, but God knew he owed me one.
©nkosi
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