Ghosted

I offered you my heart,

plattered. You weren't hungry.

The silver was tarnished.

You bricked it in,

untasted, to your hollow chest,

bloodied and beating,

unconcerned that you

might be killing me.

I chose poorly.

Your vision was narrowed,

blindered and staring,

seeing only the inside

of your own skull.

I carved away my pound of flesh.

I could never slice off enough.

You taste nothing;

your appetite, ravenous.

Can I have my heart back now?

The buffet is closed.

Find it here.

Where I Live - 3Muses Challenge

I first came to New Orleans on a weekend trip.  What I remember most on the bus trip

 into town were the cemeteries: "The Cities of the Dead"

As a child of the modern suburbs, my second impression

was of the history of the place.

The buildings and the streets of New Orleans were hundreds of years old.

Most of what I grew up with were buildings that were all less than a decade old.

Add in the music, the food, and the people,

I was in love.