Poem: Used To Be.

 

All that is left

Of my dreams of us

Lays it’s limp neck off the noose

Rope cutting in deep

So deep

I can nearly feel it myself.

What once I treasured in my empty hands,

This precious hope

Now swings like a nightmare

In the stinging wind–

Property only of the gallows now.

Everyone else has left, feeling at peace…

Justice has been served.

I still stand in horror before your corpse

Remembering what you used to be.

 

a. b. martin

4 thoughts on “Poem: Used To Be.

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