indoctrinated

In the darkest hour
of your most desperate need.
When crisp lilies wilt, touched by the breath
rushing from mouths here to feast
on your crushed bloody heart,
(which had the best intentions)
but now lies low and pliant;
with no ambition.

Here is where my fingers
begin to dance
through your hair
and my eyes are in yours.
Yes, this is the part
where I steal you away
and guard you for my own.
No need for air
or strings,
that when followed,
lead to real world lives and supposed cures.
Just us and this cavity of ours,
in candlelit embraces
and no thought of past dances
or triumphs even.

There will be no more heroic deed than this.
For every gift I bestow,
and for every day you're displaced,
for every acquisition we make;
You and I,
one step closer to deification.
Turning away knocks on doors,
sending back letters; we're shaking our fists
and retreating to the womb.
It's just us. We're not them.

*This poem is actually about a past relationship...told from his perspective of course. Toward the end, I found out he was insane - literally.