She said don’t look me in the eyes,
There is no vacancy for a stealth narcissist.
I told her I was shy; a nest of mystery lodged inside my iris.
Deep inside, we were only dreams and pain: the blended filth.
She said she needed time…to ponder!
But I could see her charm rise and perch
on the livid thoughts she gave her reins to.
‘Can I touch you? I said.
Not ever, you are a pestilence. She said.
For once she sought refuge in all the rogue words she spilled on me.
Who can blame her! We were cold.
She said don’t come an inch closer,
And I knew I was nourishment to the thorns that thrived on her bona fide sneer.
Off she back peddled: she couldn’t bare the plague that accompanies me.
‘You are nothing but poison in my “bottle heart”.’ said the point blank slap.
I was caught up in the wall that she was building around her,
I will always be part of it: part of the reason why.
So I watched her uncork her ‘bottle heart’,
And she poured me away but a few drops.
‘Why these few drop?’ I said, is it my preservation!
But she nodded off,
‘This drops are warmth.’ she finally said.
And her leery smile and indifferent smirk end our plight. It was cold.
A poem by Tonny Wandella