G. Z. Kieft

tense against the morning air
my machine gun breath shakes loose between
my sheets and my despair
my eyelashes drag across
my tear stained pillow
with the screech of a pulled back chair
sweat drenched locks of hair
pressed against my furrowed face
every wrinkle cracked into
my skull like a hurled vase
memories like allergies
sicker and sicker with each
recollected embrace
melancholy melodies
collapsing from my lips
like the flicker of a star in space
my heart is dead now
even as i lie awake
unable to taste the sweet deceit of dreams
like morphine for heartbreak
yet here i am doomed
to feel every tearing seam
and ripping heartache
and what god could forsake me
sentenced to life
away from the dead
still gasping for air
alone in a bed
that we used to share