Tuesday, November 10, 2015

[460] Farewell Fair-Weather

I offer no quarter
Nor spin you a tale
Face read, such a story
Lies pierce the veil.
At once is the moment
It beckons in earnest
Clawing up from dirt
Cooked black in the furnace.
We never could share
Heaping protests abound
Cease to exist
Less eyes are around.
Mannequin style
Tacked purse to your lips
Anomalous death
Faux life, it had slipped.
Sincerest of pleas
For polite conversation
Reckless abandoned
To trite obligation.
A scene too bloody
For my eyes cannot start
To flush out the pang
Of a gut-wrenched heart
Before waves of compassion
Reduce to a crash
Tip toe towards the door
Hinted fire only ash
Know peace, know truth
I ask it of thee
No truth, no peace
No me

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