Toxic State
I go to his tomb with a red rose in my hand,
I am linked to him and this place . . .
chained to the past, to a dead man, a ghost.
Dropping to my knees, I beg him,
oh please darling, let me go, break this bond
that holds us as one . . .
let me live my life, or I might as well be dead
and be laying with you.
But there is only silence that answers,
so I leave only to come back again . . .
____________________________
December 3, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Toxic State
Copyright Protected, ID 16-854-958-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest,
Toxic State
Third Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2016
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