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by Fyn Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Psychology · #967821
No matter what folks say, sometimes it is not a simple decision. {RAW contest]
You have torn my heart from within my chest
and clutch it, bleeding, in your tempered fist,
and yet,not torn so much as drawn out-
leaving nerves stretched tight
still allowing for heartbeats or beating,
while weeping salted tears into the wound,
wounding me beyond all reasoning.

You toss it back, casually,
while sitting on the blameless throne of your deceit;
throwing words, hurling invectives
and then silently
watching
as shattered bones heal and blueblack shadows
fade yet again.

How can I survive this torment?
This rendering of body and mind
which exposes all I am and am not
on a platter for your perusal.
How can I yet love the man within the beast?
How can I yet feel that deep within the creature
you have become,
is still that gentle essence, that tender caress?

I do not know which is more terrifying-
That you will tear me physically apart
gaining some momentary satisfaction from
pathetic mewling cries,
the clear snap of bone or
established dominance
or
haunted, hunted escape;
fearing each dark hall or alley,
each knock on a door, while
remembering past threats
of rigged ignition switches
and cut break lines.

To spend my tomorrows trying to move forward
while always looking over my shoulder to yesterday,
existing in that prison you so carefully created
where each bar is fear, mistrust, or doubt
and there is no key.

Caught between the rock of your existence
and the hard hell of the unknown,
I teeter on the brink of either
insanity or freedom,
but I do not know which direction I shall fall.
© Copyright 2005 Fyn (fyndorian at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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