23 January 2012


for years you spat your words
into the well of me
and for the life of me 
i have been dredging them up
watering bitter roots
and drinking them down
accustomed to the taste of their poison
always that first sip sweet
as a memory created of 
things meant to be
of fate or destiny
but I have become dried up 
and tired 
a husk of wondering if there's
any me left
at the bottom of that well

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