fever dreams

eloquent misdirections, tender lies
her roses left thorns in all my fever dreams
and I smell them still once I wake up.

she is the cheshire cat that smiles in the darkness
and the vice that is clamped on my spine
tightening my rib cage into a casket.

she follows me through the hallways of my thoughts
locking every door that I managed to close
my short-lived escapes, I always plead for release.

I have wrung my hands and broken bones
banging on the bathroom wall until
the tiles crack and fall into the bathtub.

a knock at the door, a towel around my shoulders
she whispers word that I can’t hear
or can’t bear to entertain, like unwelcome guests.

paralyzed by guilt, silenced by anger
her crocodile tears are enough to drown my doubts
but not enough to put out my fiery devotion.

I almost wish they could’ve swallowed me whole.

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