I've been having nightmares about you after the sun leaves the sky,
Every. Single. Freaking. Night.
Telling myself that the info received is dry,
would be telling myself a lie: I repeat, my nightmares are not lies.
I see you the following morning,
I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.
Feeling my neck being your handling is still here- lingering,
But they believe you even with your lack of veracity.
You used oxymoronic terms,
Yet somehow your audience missed your lies that created burns.
I wake up from the harsh stomach churns,
caused by your actions and words that poinsoned my Sauternes.
My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit,
Your red flagged-demerits resulted in having no clearance.
That didn't keep you from destroying my priceless body exhibits,
You then blamed your own act of destruction on me being psychotic.
I cannot rest my head back on my pillow and drift back to slumber,
Sobs, rising in my throat, had to be encumbered.
My soul trembles from the cackle being relayed when I see your eyes of umber,
I feel as if my dreams will be outnumbered.
My chest becomes tightened,
with each inhale taken;
my pulse quickened,
The pain results in my eyes being glistened.
I rather have danced with darkness gaudily,
than you forcing your mouth to waltz over my body.
You claimed that having you around should make me feel lucky,
Maybe that's all people know when you tell them that side of the story.
I kicked you out of my life- but you are still here,
evidence can be found from previous torture;
your actions embedded into furniture,
and most of all-reoccurring nightmares.