the glossy words you pull from your mouth,
so polyester and carefully chosen. they haunt me.
oh, this wretched battle which is so speechless
and penetrating.
the sweetntess of your tongue has turned
to venom, vile and staining.
your eyes flick with icy freedom
accross these rows of music stands,
and that searing love has turned to fiery hate.
in this moment, you despise me.
a vague and mortal silence settles
between us as a fog;
an elephant's accidental death by
erring wartime shrapnel on an
innocent white carpet.
the harp cries out achingly, refreshingly
intelligible words, more sensible
than this anger, these glances
so filled with poisoned bile.
this, which has no substance, and yet
cannot be ignored.
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