Sunday, December 4, 2016

The Collector

A newborn, named so casually,
no foresight of the coldness that would become
your pernicious heart, your weapon

You, so beautiful and satisfying
when you were really joyful
instead, you threw away souls
for the next pretty face or new indulgence

You were Hannibal in a different way
cannibalizing hearts and minds-
Copies of your sent letters
held as some valuable work of art,
your collectables

They remain on your shelf
saved for your twilight
when you are alone and unnerved.