August the Fifteenth

A white canvas
and you painted it black.
Half my face sketched
in moldy chalk white-
that it glows like a
penetrating streetlight.

For eight months-
I kept my voice down;
grounded like a sack
filled of cocoa beans...
but I did the right thing...
I waited!

while I spoke to the screen
at eight pm everyday,
alone and depraved
like Te Aro fountain in the rain -
And now my computer's broke.
It was as black as your painting;
it croaked
and always failed on me.

Just like your words...
"I miss you heaps?"
Digs deep into my wounds
like a sharp spade in dirt.
Because you missed like a sheep
attached to its herd.

And when you came home,
you watched my flower wilt
like burnt Asian silk -
when my secrets played
like wearisome decay to you.
And I felt a fool who spoke!

Guffaw

I loathe your e-mails -
your ugly tools of seduction
to keep me webbed like a fly.
You spider, you -
who came and sucked me dry.

And on August the fifteenth,
I felt my life die -
toppled like coloured dominoes -
drenched in tar or rye.
And a war surfaced in my mind

Where your words were like soldiers,
Who battled
until the meaning died.

I wish I could delete you from my life,
like my black computer deleted my files.

But now I've paid the price
for being gullible -
a shot to the heart
like the side effect
of an illegal pill.

And I neglected to read the warning signs,
although plastered big and bold.

And now on my wooden bed,
I think of you..

How unexpected were these thoughts.

From august the fifteenth,
you changed,
or maybe you just started to show.