Ah, my lover, my friend
my torturer, my captor.
The party awaits
one of your grand, pretentious entrances.
I hold back my disgust as you brush
my face with your dead lips
your cold fingers encircle my neck
but for a second.
As you swagger to meet
I sniggle, I snicker, I smuckle.
I hold back a joyous cry.
Will my poison
hasten your descent
down the main stair case?
Will there be laughter
or unease from the crowd below
as you clutch at your throat and the bannister?
You controvert, you retrobate, you fiend.
Are you dizzy yet?
Is your life spinning backward
in concentric spirals?
With each painful body-wracking convulsion,
I sense your pallor and stench of
rotting years, so many tears.
Your feet misstep and you fumble, tumble
rolling in slow motion down the splendid
gleaming wooden stair case.
Thick, rich carpets from exotic places
tamped down the sound of your body
as it thuds downwards.
Did you realize in those seconds
free-falling through space
how long I have hated
waited to forever maim you?
My dress rustles as I rush to your side.
He is dead, they all say, the king is dead.
Long live the queen, they all say, long live the queen.
I regally nod my head, they bow theirs.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Wordle #37
I did this as a free write – only corrected spelling (if my spell check could find an alternative, if not I left it in phylorese). I wrote down what popped into my head. I feel like Orville Redenbacher.