Grinding glass between two dull, blunt thoughts-
One of you and one of me.
If not for your phantom
I would not be here
Torturing the raw meat my life has become.
These words come to you as though you have ears to hear
And eyes to see…
You
Are not here.

Life
Has taken on a masochistic glow, pink and vibrant,
A comfort
A grooved path filled with lush trees, fragrant full blooms,
And butterflies dancing lightly on a warm breeze.
I stay
To play with your phantom for here it speaks to me.

My abnormality has become normal.
I will never let you go…
I will keep you on a bed of broken glass
In my thoughts
Forever.

©Jen2011 12-12