DAMAGE AND HAVOC
Candice James
Copyright 2010
On the west corner where vine and gate intermingle
Stands a quaint yet shoddy little house of bricks.
Her crumbling mortar is like weakened veins
Running through the heart and soul of her.
She shudders and breathes shallowly in a sea
Of faded memories and frightening nightmares
Chewing each other ferociously to the bone,
Mixing old blood with new in a bizarre game of tag.
Some nights when I pass by, cloaked in the dark,
I swear I can hear her weeping softly at the moon
And chanting a mystical spell to any sky doctor
Who will listen, who might be able to cure her
Of her ills and woes and weakened veins that
Remind her constantly of her impending death;
The complete annihilation of all her elements.
I have walked dozens of desolate streets and faces
That scream out to me “Pity me. Pity me”!
I feign oblivion to their terror filled voices and eyes.
To me they are not there nor are they here
In my world of living dead ghostly apparitions.
A posse of cold hard rain is falling fast and closing in
On the outlaw teardrops that escaped down the
Cheek of some cherished memory slain in error.
Oh the damage we do when we choose to love.
Oh the havoc we wreak when we kill a heart.
The noise and cadence of the traffic passing by
Soothes the torn metal edge of my weeping scars
Inflicted as I tried to escape this prison of tears.
Years whisper by in a hush of lost moments
We leave streets filled with carnage and debris.
These streets brimming with beaten, broken hearts;
These streets we will never walk again.
Oh the damage we do when we choose to love.
Oh the havoc we wreak when we kill a heart.