Sunday, 6 July 2014



I know it sounds
So gruesome,
But I kept that body
On my bed
For a long
Long time.

It was a natural death,
And not a homicide,
So I figured
It was alright,
And no one
Would mind?

I kept it clean,
Kept it fed,
Made sure
It had breath?
Sort of a
Heimlich Manouver
To double time,
The Moonlight Sonata
For me worked just fine,
Kept me in rhythm?

So hands up...
In came the air
Hands down,
A groan like despair..
(See, the air oozes out
And makes
This odd sound?)

So this one night
Joe stops by
Stood by my door
Looked kinda shy:
"Want some ice-cream?"
I looked up at him,
Then down at the bed,
At my hands curved
To that rib-cage
And I shook my head.
"I can't, I just can't!"

He nodded sadly
And smiled,
So I looked down again
At the thing on my bed,
(It was so dessicated
The torn heart
No longer bled red)
And so I got up
And took Joe's hand

And that is how
It all happened.
I admit it,
I gave up.

That is how
Our love died.

Manuela Cardiga

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