(untitled)


I remain seated here not in awe
But in spite of you
Gazing, bewildered, as the silence swallows life
A life that was built on an absence of foundation
And destroyed by hands
Stressed with a lack of understanding for
The green dried brown under false compassion
Clogging the tributaries and suffocating
The River that winds through the city streets

There is a tinge of vacancy
As the memories we shared clash against the curbs
They dip and swell with the rising tide
Resembling our dances around linen-covered tables
Stained with innocence and laughter
Oh, how promptly beauty yields
Beneath the hands of temptation

In the midst of apprehension
The lies start to drip from your waterspout mouth
Keeping time with the song on the radio
It’s not the table dances that I’ll regret
But, downing vinegar might actually
Prove to be less painful
Than what you intend for me to swallow.

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