confessional

oily oak doors shut softly
bathing me in dense silence
ghost of incense lingers
repulsive, my own breath
suffocates, laced with
tropic mold

I reach down with
my sinister hand
my dark hand
trying to recall
every moment he held
me captive, lashed
to irises of blue

primal scream
splits the dawn
cloaked in full-throated
despair
&
my voice is raw
from the salt-wound
he gave
&
all day long
I will drip
discarded honey