DEAD LETTER

The forces that brought us together are undeniable.

Like words to a poet, your love flowed through me like endless sonnets. Your spirit connected to my spirit like ink to paper and air to breath. An unexplainable feeling that soon died like a buck to a bullet. Shot directly in the chest with no vital signs. It was a painful death.

Your memories crawl on my skin like leeches long for blood. I held on to everything that once meant something. Now like a body in a grave I can smell the rotten stench of your scent, see the blind look in your eyes and feel the empty touch of your hand. Something was nothing and that is all you left me with. Nothing.

Your words were engraved in my mind and now there are like a cheap souvenir purchased at the last minute on an overdue vacation.

A flawless wrapping only to uncover a tainted purpose. I sketched everything that I believed you were. Beautiful colors blended onto a perfect tapestry. Yet you were only watered down finger-paints on a dirty canvas.

Like a letter with no return address, I can't send for my heart. I hope you are happy with it for I'm sure it will only add to your collection.

To me, you are a dead letter. You cannot be returned or delivered. Disbursed imitated compassion, that was sealed with a deadly kiss. A dark fairytale with a dark ending.

Have you hid the knife that you stabbed me with? My back still bleeds and the wound is fresh. Your existence is like salt and burns my flesh minute after minute.

Someday you will long for love and all that you threw away. By then it will be completely disintegrated and all that will remain is dust.

Perhaps the mailman who has forwarded your mail will be willing to give you directions to the grave that you volunteered to dig. Then you can kneel at your magnificent artwork. Your architecture is everything that you wanted it to be. Was this your vision?

If it wasn't then you would have not approved the blueprints of your own structure. Like the pyramids in Egypt, you are my new eighth wonder.