Once upon a time ago, I felt as if I was the only thing that was important to me.
Infecting infatuation with a mirror being.
Words, I can hear the ripping, the snapping of my heart strings.
Sweetie, I am more than ordinary.
Why did your words lacerate, contort and strangle...
I'm not sickening.
I'm not the virus you speak of.
The notes and letters to myself have subsided.
I caught a glimpse, I fell to my knees, blindsided.
That rose so black, it calls to me.
A sirens grasp so dark and alluring.
I will watch from a window, cracked open, moonlight pale and shimmering dew at dawns first light.
Once upon my wall sat a clock,
just ticking away each moment I sat in dismay.
That crimson field sways,
a marionette I am just pulled by that black rose in my dreams.
Just to hold it would complete me once again.
Like having her brush close to my skin,
like a thorn she tore me thin.