To Misery, With Love

My misery danced
like a grinning sinner.
Oh, she spun through my days
reaching for holes
in my soul,
twirling through the dusty crevice
that held my heart.

My misery, my darling,
sent from hell to salvage my sanity,
oh, how she soared
when she leaped,
smiling with her eyes
of pale blue.

And to everyone else
she radiates a
yellow
as warm as two lips pressed tight
to each other,
as friendly as the sun after
the long months of winter.

But to me,
she is
a dark red that
while inside her is warm,
like the blood that pulses
through blue veins
under her milk white breast,
but cold once it leaves her body.

She survives in passion
and I feel her soul on fire.
She is dying–
a caged bird that cannot sing,
a prisoner behind bars
in the brain
that has betrayed her,

My love,
she is suffocating in smoke
from the burning of a life
that is my fault.
She calms my storms
but I only anger her own.
I don’t deserve her,
and yet,
I can’t live a life where
she doesn’t sing every day.

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