Discordant
"She is the fire within me
and you're my deviation from the norm"
You were right,
and that's the heartbeat of insanity
pulsing my roots from your sweet poisoned ground.
I'm the butterfly pinned in your display case -
will their reverent eyes be enough
to satisfy when you sleep alone?
My wings are bleeding
and you, with a lemon-soaked band-aid -
you think I'm smiling.
Wherefore, Romeo?
Did you climb down from your balcony
of ice sculpture promises
and meet him in the garden
before a single word escaped his lips?
He must have gotten the invitation:
"Hush, wink, baby - forever a lie
from dark eyes and sugared tongue."
The smell of spring
is still that plantation hillside
and autumn, the canal, blue as
the rose held tightly in travel-weary hands,
but this sunlight streaming in
is the chill on my breath
that hides your reflection in the bedroom mirror.
Played like a drunken game…
next time, I'll choose truth.
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