The Sentenced
And now I leave my mask outside
The door.
Some sick joke, Your
Horror film sense of humor,
And that is what I love about you.
That slit-my-wrist kind of love
That leaves me broken and hopeful
When the smoggy sky turns dark at the
End of everyday.
It's made me come to the conclusion that
You are the rope, and I am the
Sentenced.
poem by Catherine Allen
Added by Poetry Lover
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