The Migraine Mausoleum

interior of church in Philadelphia

A not so innocent comment,
Twisted daggers and misplaced hate,
Duplicitous and malicious.
Forced open doors long ago closed
By fate’s heavy, unbalanced hand,
Waking whispered ghosts not yet dead,
Hurting the one you claim to love.

Honor the memory of love,
Even if it is not your own. 

Risen up from dying embers,
Unintended consequences 
Spiraling out of your control.
Come hither says Love’s crooked finger,
Beckoning from darkest shadows.
For nightmares of my flesh and blood
Will share your bed each night.

There is no healing, only remission.

Sharp edges peel the layers back,
Reveal the skull still lying there.
Grief does not die so easily.
Auras remain, halos of pain,
Making even the strongest weak.
Because despite a brief reprieve, 
The aching will always return.

Respect the memories of love,
They do not belong to you. 

Did you taste my cold lips on yours?
A kiss, my sharp wooden stake through
The heart, just moments before.
Waging a war against your dark
And blackened soul. What is light now?
Naught but emphasizing shadows.
You should have left the dead in peace.

Honoring the presence of love,
Even if it is not my own. 


Please enjoy today’s Mediocre Medical Poetry while I work on posts to answer the questions you all gave me this past week! πŸ™‚


40 thoughts on “The Migraine Mausoleum

  1. I adore this piece! It’s not m mediocre at all.😱 You have such a talent for Gothic beauty. So many people try hard for assn aesthetic that comes to you so naturally. You invoke the darkness of Poe and a romance ask your ownπŸ˜€

    Liked by 2 people

  2. There was nothing mediocre about this. The whole time I was reading it I was wondering if it was yours or a quoted poem, but all the while sure the style, the heart, the words were yours! You never disappoint! This was incredible!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Your poetry is so gripping. Once I started, I couldn’t stop reading even if I wanted to. Because of the title, I read this as if it was about a migraine. The picture certainly fits. I don’t know if my headaches are true migraines (like my mom’s) or just really bad headaches, but your words remind me of the worst of them: “Sharp edges peel the layers back, Reveal the skull still lying there.” (pulsating with the beat of a dull hammer.) Thankfully, my headaches are much less frequent now.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Good stuff!! A most excellent and descript poem of real and raw emotion…
    The last line was my favorite….

    “Yes… Honor the love…. Their love.
    It’s not your own… But it is real. So….Let it be.”

    Thank you for writing this… It speaks volumes!!


  5. Mercy! I feel a fist griping my entire chest!! such masterful duplicity. I never had a migraine, but I nursed my adult sons through them. And yet I feel it reading this. Au contraire, cela est excellent poΓ©sie!

    Liked by 1 person

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