Contemplations of a Disturbed Soul

XVIII

For once,

Don't speak. Let me not see your lips form words-

You don't mean to say.

Let me not hear the gurgle in your throat,

Or the glint in your eyes,

The flush on your cheeks

When you smile.

For once,

Be still. Like blood in my veins-

Stagnant, dirty, foul.

Let them see your deformities

Which you so deftly hid

All this time.

Let them lift off the veil that covers your face

Stop your hearse,

Lift you up from your wooden box

And look at your face one last time

To hear silence.

Let death take you away.

All of you.

Let death bring you to me.

I'm waiting.