The Photo

And you: you
Sour-faced man
Staring from your
Frame that is
Old, old, and holds
No sway, cuts no
Ice with me 

How you sliced me up,
Took glee in my
Body you profaned,
Scoured and
Left bleeding to the
Death.  I am

Glad I no longer have
Your thefts to
Contend with - I
Excised you from my
Days but it was
Years before you were
Persuaded to free my
Heart.  I traded

All of me for a dream
That did not prove 
Itself true.  You 
Sour-faced man I
Remove you from my
Wall - it makes you

Too real (a thing you don't
Deserve) and it makes me
Appalled at what I 
(Not against my will)
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem