Sympathy for the Seventh Sin

Photo by Burak K

Hey, just wanted to see how you’re doing today.

The last time I called I hated you like a lion

Hates to kill its prey.

I’m not religious but every time someone mentions you, I sit there and pray

Hoping you have the means to move on without me there, every step of the way.

But I don’t know what it means to move on. I get finicky.

My pillow gasps and screams your name right back to me.

The strangers all around this place have branded me as “gutsy” –

If they don’t see my crippling heart, what else do they not see?

Your beaming smile was printed in my memory. Then cut out as a simple clipping.

I must’ve been a monster when I stabbed myself to start the snipping

In order to get every last piece of you away… Too bad I forgot the stitching.

All for nothing. The numbness didn’t last. The insides are still twitching.

Do you even understand what has been done?

How many times the water’s under the bridge

But you once again pull out the gun?

And with my own hand you push me out on the ridge…

Will you have what it takes to pull the trigger? Or will you stand there, evasive?

If offered my tied and bleeding tongue, would you know where to place it?

What a shame it is to fall for someone with a soul of tin,

To have this deadly sympathy for the seventh sin.

What an abject itch it is to live with you, without ever having you.

It was nice to talk but I must go. My empathy is due.

-JW