Epiphany

futuristically transfixed with the throw of a stone
I am a deep pool of water
cold to the touch
and you can never reach me
for every step you take just distances me further from you

as the stone hits me
the ripples are only extenuated
by feelings of greed
superficialities and lies… lies… lies

if you finally gained my trust
even if you finally did
I will coax you deeper and deeper
until you feel safe enough
until you believe in me enough
and give underneath the surface
only to get twisted up in the weeds
that grow within me
buried in my deep
dark
core

and your lungs will slowly fill with water
caustic and as viscous as the most crimson and pure blood
spreading like a virus throughout your system
drowning on me
choking on me
until your lungs fill with my hatred
and all the traces of life have vanished

And then I will spit you out -
you will slowly wash to the surface
and will be pulled by the lapping waves
you so justifiably caused
to the banks
to my shore
your eyes will be full of bleach
open as to suggest your surprise
your skin – infested with maggots
(as you so rightfully deserve)

It is then that I will be able to rest
it is then that I will be finally satisfied
that you will never hurt anyone ever again
you will never touch anyone again
and I will go back to being the peaceful pond
in the middle of nowhere
where no one can reach

by missy harris

Other poems of HARRIS (2)

Comments (1)

Disturbingly chilling and wickedly good, your poem quite simply made my skin crawl, and I suppose that's a good thing.