HORROR Poem: Ritual, by Thomas Larr

Pour your love into the lies you speak,
let it drip slow,
a ritual of normalcy
Brought in a cup of muddy secrecy,
I’ll drink it down anyway,
choking on the sweetness
you use to bury the poison.
Your words
a rhythm i can’t follow,
a gospel of maybe.
I press my palms to the sound,
searching for the pulse of truth,
but all I feel is blurriness and confusion.
How am I supposed to know
if your touch is salvation or sin?
You leave me trembling,
praying to gods,
I don’t believe in anymore.
am I dying or achieving enlightenment
in your religious faith.

Author: poetryfest

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