Imprisoned

~Imprisoned~
        by ~Minja~

It wasn't with knife
my body he tore,
it wasn't his hands
that made
my throat sore.

It wasn't a gun
that made the wound
in my chest-
          i
            f
             e
              l
               l
              o
             n
            t
           h
          e
    ground

It was his words
that stabbed me through heart,
with no remorse
he tore it apart.

Imprisoned in self pain,
a living ghost
with hands wide open
to the darkest host.
_______________________
Issued in "Poetry Newsletter (November 11, 2015)" 
Line Count- 18