Worn Insignia

Through my dreams
and in my ears,
I hear you
in sticks and starts.
My heart hurts,
but I feel you..
And I trust myself
not to fall apart.
As I trusted you
even as your purple grip
and aching squeeze
knew me…
more deeply than I ever thought.
I worry now that I might be like her,
The iconoclast; worn insignia.
Purple and smelling of fear.
The taste of shame on my tongue
and vomit my only release.
Embarrassment keeps these lips shut,
the truth hiding within,
my purple hippo and her stinking fear.
I must learn to be silent,
yes, silent in the bed I have made.
The bed we made together with our loving touch...
But my anger betrays me every time
and I end up tasting of loss.
But I don't regret you...
Your love is like the vampire's kiss,
impossible to be ignored.
Forceful when necessary.
That's why it's so fitting that my
purple hippo wear a tutu and
a grinning smile.
So fitting that she be so decorated with joy.
-------------------------------

I don't feel like this anymore... but I did.