Vacant Retort

A facade in blood.

A memory without moments.

My sin it sinks in.

Her words cut like a knife across my throat.

A devil for the first day she said, an angel for the last.

It was bitterness.

It was hate.

For thee who holds my hand, won’t sow my seed.

The bitch.

How broken I am.

How flatulent I have become.

Yes you heard my words true.

Even a demon cry in the end.

So take this breath.

Spread your wings.

Don’t sin.

Don’t break.

Don’t leave a mark.

Tiresome and worthless.

For the end to the start.