Thursday, January 26, 2017

Soul Stealing Trenches

You 


gave your soul away once. It was locked away, and then you swallowed the key whole until it sank to the darkest pit of your round stomach, covered in stomach acid and slime. I could jump down your throat and go for a swim in the toxic trenches in search for the small golden key. However, I know that once I was down there covered in acid and slime you would regurgitate it and throw it out the car window on your way to your 9-5 job in the city. It would lay on the side walk for a curious stranger to pick up in confusion and toss away not knowing that it was important, not knowing what it could unlock. My point is, you were never unleashing your soul into my hands. You were never wearing it on your shirt sleeve for me to pick up and cradle with cautious, delicate fingertips. I could not find your soul in the window of your eyes which sunk deep behind your eyelids as we made love in between blue sheets of dishonesty and despair. It was gone, your face was blank as you watched me leave you like you once did your soul. You left it in some far away lock box in some other woman's closet for safe keeping because she told you it would be safe there in the dark. I left, I promise I did not take anything with me, as you did not give me a special thing to take except empty canisters of  future wishes and tear drops filled with your sorrow. I screamed out at night for the longing of your soul, for a peak of what could have draped its arms around me and drenched me in sunlight. When in reality I was drenched in the arms of your shadow, of the darkness you carried around in your pocket and handed me on one sunny day along with the air tight canisters of your future wishes that I wish I never accepted. Wishes were all that they were, wishes that you did not give your soul away so easily to a woman who did not know what to do with it. She locked it in that lock box and shoved it in her closet behind her cobwebs while handing you a golden key to give to your next hopeful lover. Sadly, that next hopeful lover was me. All I wanted was to set your damn soul free, but the only wishful thinking soul in this story was me.

-M.D.L

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