I had black coffee.
The death of an inanimate friend
  is a death, none-the-less
and the sole eternal way to kill the spirit
inside the doll
that forever haunts
  requires no talisman
  no hocus
  no witch doctor.
Just and alone: a sharp sharp hook.
 Separate the seams
  connecting the head to the body
  the brain to the head
  and the heart from the torso.
And with so, you were gone.
I thank you for your talent,
bestowed upon my crown
flowed upon the paper
and you are always within
                                 my head.
But now, you may disappear.
Never return.

Matt Levy Index
The East Village Poetry Web
Matt Levy