your precise form
i can see this beast lashing out to snag you rip you from your feet from the paint cracked planks into the air over the railing onto the ground smashing you into a million minuscule pieces
your green eyes cracked your red coat torn your lips broken your autumn hair turned to dust
i see this all you as a refection of me now
and then begins the arduous process of delicately placing all of you back into your precise form
although i know that will be impossible
so for now i will just have to listen to the drunken screams shrieks shrills until you tire of this
and decide to love me again
perhaps tomorrow it will be your turn to observe your own beast and what it will do to me
written for Dead Poets Live prompt…kind of dark, i know






