This Too Will Give You Poetry

(For those whose affections have turned bitter)

Mel was her name, and the reflection her
Shadows cast on me, my mind, my sanity,
Lanky figures standing around me

Like priests around a sacrifice-
I was the sacrifice on her altar,
Coiled around with cords that pressed

Deep into my veins, blood seeping through open pores,
The pain they created,
Only imagined by a narrow one, me.

For I near died, but a little voice woke me saying:
“You will not sleep yet,
This too will give you poetry.”

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