Those Days

I know of those days. I saw the shadows who betrayed me Watching me with spite as they saw The ropes they wanted to lynch me. I rubbed the scars of flesh The searing pain of the hot poker, They, I Wanted me underneath Five feet, asleep, silent I whispered to myself the sweet nothings As the mockery looped around me. Blood pounding in my ears A sweeter symphony of fulfilling silence As bone met flesh. I welcomed defeat, warmth trickling down I smiled with relief at the words slurred. They left me like the dead leave the living. Warm liquid wetting my face. The pain was nowhere to be found Purple and red pretty memoirs of time. I was already condemned I wanted an escape I walked the footsteps of the path That veers through the shadows It whispered its lustful words Those who know hear his temptation We find no other to hear but him He offers escape, salvation The crimson puddle a mere stain on the white veneer Swirling into a cloudy funnel of the calm Few know the feeling. Senses muffled withdrawing their power Allowing the committer to float Transcend the presence of soft kisses I wish for my life to be; they revoke. The questioners mourn the unknown They attempt to salvage the unfinished work. Sterile, living veins suffocate A prison cell they have placed me. Liquid plops, voices whisper A haze of old sunshine blinds They find fault in my place Those who know not of those days. I know of those days.