into this well

you lure me into this well
where no thirst left me
quenched in the formal days
of rain where it collected,
weighed and burdened me as
though an over-soaked sponge,
saturated, heavy in lies
and disguises. you mourned
my death by morning drunk
and splattered on the floor
with bones deconstructed and
a heart more fragile than I
am lost… I hang it deliberately
upon the clothesline to dry,
wait before it breaks

-mr gahon 8/20/15


About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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