Stop Amon, Sophie weeps...
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For every time I lashed out, possessed,
Heaving, throwing black mane, gashing you
Till my mouth shrieked dry with fear;
Choked and strangled with helpless tears.
You digressed, but always remained stern,
Caught me by the wrists;
Shaking me almost passionately out of my frenzy.
While it spill moist sea breeze outside,
Slowly, mysteriously creeping through the wet curtains,
Reached out to mantle my broken body,
Scantily dressed, toppled at the side.
My swollen eyes could see vaguely your image above,
Standing, looking down wearing a mixed expressions,
Or was that a shirt with sleeves rolled up high?
This time, my muted whimper,
Cracked lips forming some muted words;
It no longer held you.
You watched me fading,
I watched you frown a little heart break,
Hesitated unnoticeably on your heels,
Leaving me a wisp of faith,
Carried away to the door with you, not turning.
Stop Amon, sweep clean my wretched face,
Stop Amon, you know Sophie weeps...
Perhaps if I had not been so paralyzed,
I should of ran down the street, even on cement, bare feet.
Drizzling, filling the glass, danced with wine;
I still taste your blood lingering on my tongue,
Incapable to rid of the ether that crushes me.
Most of the days, I keep my window open
And practiced forgetfulness with earnest,
Crouched, hugged the corner dimness.
Several times, sympathizers kindly knocked,
Left flowers and pies lovely and wax to me.
It was horrid hearing my voice a plastic smile,
"The girl you look for doesn't live here anymore."
Then scrawled another tally to the count,
Scratched soot marks on the wall.
The neighbors moved soon after restless sleep,
Haunted by the crazed laughter that echoed through the halls;
She laughed at me for my narcissism,
I bitterly dug out her sadism,
And we both sat quiet, mutually gazing watery eyed at each other.
"Do you think he'll come back Zen?"
"I don't think so Sophie..."
Never have I recalled anguish that twisted,
Wrenched and blank minded,
Spun around, flash eyes at me fiercely.
I shot her --she thanked me.
Stop Amon, I hear the past slip,
Stop Amon, Sophie weeps...
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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