Venom at the root

The waves pause, waiting  

for the moon’s cue,   to no avail

Crickets hold their tongue, eavesdropping

patiently.       The silence breaks

By our heartbeats and the moon’s hum

I breathe the air,

My lungs fill with sickness

Yet you seem immune

A lump in my throat clogs my voice

With a savory nausea.      We stand,

we wait.      The feelings marinate.

Seeds of regret bloom, watered

by deception and anger

How could I?

Made from your love,    loved,

milk only to spit it out back at you.

Black snakes coil in your stomach,

their venom ready to spill