Pretty lies float above my head,
falling like flower petals from dying
women's hands. Sweeter than a
frozen blade, drawing droplets of
blood from the nests of owls.
Spoken words trickle through my
mind, mouth so soft and breath
so sweet and rancid against my
ear. The lies, floating like candles
across the blue waters of empty.
False pretenses, false hopes.
Brava dearest, ensnared again.
Brava, bravo. Entrapt, bound to this
womb, the trues and falses binding
as iron chains.
So sleep pretty one, frozen by
all the sweeter of the lies. Seen
beneath the glass, fists against the
mirror. Shatter the glass, sweet,
do it. Break it down.
Pretty lies float above my head,
falling like stars from a dying
moon's breast. Sweeter than these
lies, they fall to the ground, pull
the blood from my veins.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment