Toxic

Here, a box enclosed
A heart within erodes
Securely locked in codes
And here you speak of keys that would unlock it

Hear a world of lows
Of broken things in rows
With only dirge to grow
And here you speak of rains that aren’t caustic

Here a virtue stowed
A promise never owed
A barricaded road
And here you speak of maps that seek to cross it

Here my weakness showed
And tears beneath me flowed
I dared believe to hold…
…you here, without realizing I was toxic

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About A. P. Christopher

I'm a cynic, a nihilist, and a pessimist. I'm a hermit filling the interior walls of my empty cavern with the words and pictures of a mind adrift in disparity. I also like lifting weights.
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2 Responses to Toxic

  1. Oh! I really like this. Very well done.

    Liked by 1 person

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