all copyrights by Ronaye Hudyma. all rights reserved
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Acerbic words sting,
assail the air;
hurled like a dagger with a jab to the heart.
Fatal blows swift and sure catch me by surprise…
I cannot breathe.
Your barbed tongue maims,
slices through the tender threads of trust and
when the curtain falls, you feel nothing.
I was fodder for your senses, consumed then forgotten
No investment. No expense.
Being without me is a reprieve, a temporary Fast — no snacks, no sugar.
Yet you to me were love without restraint
sustenance for the soul
and the bonds that did bind me were not of chains–
but a river of ribbons flowing throughout my existence.
After a taste of the Infinite, being without you is death by starvation.
Now Both of us are confined to our corners
of opposite sides
where never the two shall meet.