Numerology: The Curse Of 812

Struggles of heartbreak...

Never was the superstitious type

Nor whatever other words

But for a while i was cursed

The broom and witch had merged

Flying over 

Spreading her voodoo

Her evil concoction of memories to haunt my peace at night

Bottle caps trailed to my room as if ants had found a victim

In the process my tolerance had grown and become strong though

A few years ago...

The curse....

Cursed

Like a victim of Medusa from her eyes

Her hair

In the wind 

So stricking

Serpentine

Beauty came easy 

A smile that shone forth

Cute nose

That i didn't know that could grow

Pinochio

A body sculpted from an ancient architect

Like "wow" against the odds

And how time may scar

A heart so divine...

Our hearts used to skip together like children

On her back were wings

Didn't notice they were powder coated though

Cause when she flew away

I swear i saw another color

Our love became powder before a fan

Blown away

And since she was on strings

How fitting

She would swing

In the storm

We had a weak foundation

If it were as fine as those legs

Then we'd be still standing

If we had respect

Respect for the other member in this play

This race

For two

To cross the finish

Checkered flag raising

I see an opening

But i aint tryna win

I wanna tie

Get wrapped up together and unwind

Slight regret

I didn't cross the line

But knelt waistside and tasted the chalk

The brink of pleasure

Tasted so exquisite

To later smell so

Offensive

The stench of stubborness has invaded the space i fiend

She

Her

You 

All pronouns fit

I was a victim of each grammatical error ever placed besides "I"

Now I-

Use these tears to irrigate fields

To grow foilage among this hill

This mountain 

Snow capped volcano

Preserving his flame for the worthiest victim

To erupt together in pleasure

And our ash will rise far into the heavens

To rain down and smother us in love

Killing all the past 

Nourishing the present

To flourish in the future

Seedlings blossom as the flower does

True love is like a breeze amidst the shade

Glass of lemonade

Cliche

The heat of the moment can be oppressive if not proactive

Heat leads to organ damage

Heart failure

Flatlinin...

Now she claimin an organ donor

So on this table she chose to die

With tears in my eyes

Goodbye...

Sometimes i see her in her afterlife

Deadened to emotions

I used to be haunted

But i had mastered this DIY class on exorcism

Took me a minute..

So now everytime i see 812

I still think of you

But not to mourn

Not to say i wish things changed

But to say...

I guess...

Sometimes i miss....

Author's Note

Not typical prose, the line breaks signify how i speak and express myself daily