Sun 11 Oct, 2009 06:58 pm
whose pink nails and white hands are these?
what tiny feet now wear my shoes!
my colorless, waxen face melts in
the heat of the october sun. I am stretched
and mutilated beyond recognition
like an old rag doll left out in the rain.
time has plucked out the eyes that once
looked with love on a man who called me
his queen. steal now even the memory
of a few happy hours, and what is left
of my self? none of this is real, but
no less painful with the implications
of its falsehood. seek no more answers to
endless questions - only the end of it all.