The Dying Body Chronicles 11: libation in her name

Who will forgive me?
I have broken her.

Who will curse me?
I have laid waste to her soul.

Listen, I have killed paradise,
dragged angels through torn

streets, through bent gates,
away from merciless gaze

of uprooted homes.
Someone please tell me,

who holds knife to part skin
from bone? God, I laid libation

on dust in her name, then I
entered the room & tore the roof

of rough words from my teeth
& into her throat I fed madness

that wanders rabid within me.
She doesn't deserve the horror,

this terrible place that is me.
God, how do I fold myself back

into shadows, wash clean memory
of my name from her lips?

Who will tell her that this
is a dream, that I am a figment

of her imagination?
Who will forgive me?

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