Dying love

The pristine film of dusty granules
Layers those window panes
Which once saw merriment
That pranced around these walls,
now tainted with
Reminiscences of the battles we fought;
The echoes still reverberate within
The chasms of my heart
Kindling and fanning oxygen
Over hungry fires that ascend
Perpetually.
I stoop down on the floor
Flanked with the embodiment of
Thick nostalgia seeping into my cells
Defecating an inferno of copious hatred
Into my dying veins.
The floor feels hard and the peeling walls
Smother me like hideous ghouls.
My breath feels heavy as I inhale the
Putrid smell of violence
Surviving the odds of ages
That still lingers somewhere in the crevices of the house;
Bandy legs of a teakwood table
Peering through obscure cobweb shrouds
Mock at my inability to stand on my feet
Anymore;
I can feel the salty taste on my dried lips
Long before I realize the moistness in my eyes.
I gently force myself into a standing position
Advancing towards those panes
That reek of woody seduction
My mind runs wild with flashbacks
Of our bittersweet memories-
As I clumsily wipe the grime away
With the crinkled palms of my hands.

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© Varina Berryl Rasquinha, 7verina.wordpress.com, 2015.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Varina Berryl Rasquinha and 7verina.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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