Unbearable Love

 

A loaded gun i call home resided in your already clenched jaws

When the bullets fire, they strike unbearable, heinous, dreadful

The swelling, agony and torment of the wound haunt

Like a longing evil entity, un unquenched thirst of a demon,

Possessing what remains of an already compromised frame of mind

Agonized by own mistaken torment.

 

I still cling to the haunting of utterance of destruction,

longing to hear soft whispers instead of screeching holler in my cursed ears.

Hope seems already to have escaped from Pandora's box

Like spider turning their fifth eye, hunting their pray.

But that pray is my will to continue this poem.

 

Shrinking every passing moment

Until the remains of a ghostly creature will wonder

Pretending to be viable through the already unendurable fate

She is bestowed upon surviving.

 

When my vitality stops emerging,

Like when the spider finished digesting their pray,

You are engorged in a disguised form of silk,

Thinking: oh, it's cozy- or: oh, it's quite comfortable

 

But then, you suddenly feel the rapture of your arteries,

Or the shredding of your heart's chambers

The tore of your spleen you were not even sure you had

And the formerly incomplete brain you always loathed.

 

But the soul - oh, the soul

So fragile that all the pieces scattered

With resentment similar to a drunken painting

Of ripped skin and scars, crushed by the very thing

That keeps me alive - love

 

A wounded love,

trampled by uncaring wrong.

A love as tender as a bullet wound.