He Doesn't Know

He Doesn’t Know

Does he know?
Your skin feels like cold snow on my burning red hands
Purple sewer water drowns my love
I’m happy to sleep with your quite lies tonight 
Running barefoot through a field of knives I reached the temple of her heart
The steps were jaded 
Passage ways faded
I cried when the maze was no more. 

Does he know?
I saw you with him that night at the diner 
You looked tired sitting in that sticky booth while he coughed 
Standing in the acid rain 
Chills like baby spiders kissing on my back 
I can’t forget the snakes that carried me home 
Swallowing their venom till the sun shot me again. 

Does he know?
Your friend told me you were at the hospital today 
Reading a book in the waiting room
He must be a doctor of sorts 
With thieving hands infested with warts. 

Does he know?
I followed you this afternoon to a graveyard 
You were sobbing like a dying swan in the desert 
Hugging the tombstone, you finally let go and walked away 
I ran to the grave ready to fight 
Only to behold a painful sight 
It read 
“To the love of my life I wish you a peaceful journey my sweet brother.” 

© 2017 Randle Allshouse Jr.