19 July 2012

The wire hanger in the closet stands alone,

With our old brass house key hanging on a red ribbon,

My voice box is breaking from the idea of a scream.

And I can feel your hand on my zipper,

Can the hum of our refrigerator drowned out your moans as tears roll fat on my cheeks,

It's the back lash of that damn hanger,

And the blood stained jacket that now hangs on a chain like fence,

I use a dishrag to wipe my sins away.

I want you to play the guitar again, so I can hide in old jonny cash.

thecoffeeboyDamn Wire Hanger • Opuss № I