by Robert Travis Hicks 

The Gallows

Head hung, haunted by hoary whispers
A time before the milk curdled
Before you left
Before the mirror met me
And explained better than anyone ever could
the depths of my inadequacy.

Morning comes, I lie here still
My hands and feet shackled by sheets
Once used to contain our love
Now no more than crude, cruel instruments
Meant to wring the last of it
From my flesh


Today I used love as a weapon
to gain the upper hand
in this war.

Yesterday love helped diffuse
the bomb fate had thrown
at our feet.

Sometimes I use it as a way
To pry open your legs
At others, as a convenient excuse
To disappear.

Today I used love as a weapon.
Tomorrow is a new day.

About the Author:

Rob Hicks is a writer in New York City. Currently hard at work on his second novel, his poems and short stories can be found in a variety of reviews on the internet and in print. For more info, check out his instagram