Infested
Something inside of me has died.
On several occasions to myself I have lied.
My blackened heart in the palm of my hand
Offering it to you just as I had planned
My skin infested with your touch
I can smell you in my clothes to which I helplessly clutch.
Empty and thoughtless, seamless and bare
Weakness envelopes me,
Infectious stare.
My skin burns
Cold inside-starting to itch
Normalcy is for what I yearn
My thoughts maladjusted-My stomach turns.
I take a deep breath and
I slowly close my eyes
Offering you another sacrifice
Just to watch another piece of me die.
Copyright © Amber Buster | Year Posted 2006
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