cher marcine

cher marcine,

she writes to me in the night
in the midst of his arm touching his head
gently, and quietly
whispering these thoughts to me

she describes a crime so complex
a heart beating without rest
as if it was meant to be

his caress was once so sensitive
his heart was once to tenderly
placed between the arms of wisdom
crossing the bridge to safety

her words speak of satisfaction
as he lies to me
and lyes with another

whispering to me
rest you do not find on the sea
sleep, i will awake from you
alone and trembling.

his hopes lay underneath his love
now lost and emptied
forgotten and abandoned at sea

in the night she whispers to me
with a knife at my neck
I tell you boy, this is reality
a future?
unlikely.

she writes to me in the sky tonight
warning me of what i already know
of whom has replaced me
his breath is peaceful and steady


his energy drained
his heart taken
frequently by the fragile type

she whispers to me this night
warning of what he shall take from me
and replace with another
over and over
leaving behind the scars of his psychosis


leaving me
unhealed
untouchable
incapable
and
incomplete

she writes to me in the night
to inform me of this void
that from the heavens she sees
as he feeds on another
while i wait for the return
of what belongs to me.