My heart's tainted virtue
gone, with the modest
hues of yesterday.
My remains denied , widowed
by the pitiful one who squats
on my sunken chest, robbing
me of my appreciation of
you, the poison I worship.
My spirit in need, of toxic
restoration as your lies burn
like fire, their ashes sharpened
by the whetstone, carved from fear by the angry mob trying
to restore lingering emptiness
that scars salvaged tissue,
stolen away by the sun, left
to beg for the brevity of life.
For without you death is
the only reason
I live
©iris3690
I