The Lot Where We Meet


I died a thousand deaths the moment both your lips met
Smacking,
Clashing against each other
Rough and quick;
As if you were trying to rush this act of danger and caution.
To rush love,
Lust.
To rush the act in which you knew I was going to walk on into.
You knew I would walk around to this dingy old lot and find you.
Find you swapping sorrows with this stranger.
Swapping regrets, anger, fear and the smell of early cigarettes;
You know I hate the smell of the spirits on your lips.
The taste of the death.
The slow, but awaiting death.
Maybe she accepted it.
With her accepting the death upon her pink full lips
She also accepted me.
Me and my hands that began to shake
As if I were on your motorcycle back once again.
They began to shake, as I started to step closer
The closer I got the more twisted and knotted my stomach became.
How?
How, could you participate in this act of murder?
I always thought you wanted to love me, but it was false
All you wanted was to kill me.
So props to you for killing me,
And everything that I've ever seen in you.

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