I glimpse your dagger of sarcasm
kept honed for cutting remarks
and the poison pen hovering
above the letters that you craft,
its nib polished silver
a blade bleeding cruel ink.
Callous lies you wrap in tissue
masquerading as gifts of love
but each barbed with razor wire
ripping heart sinews like cotton wool,
silently, easily.
I am fast learning that my vocabulary
is too feeble, not battle ready,
hollow vowels seeking invisible consonants
to make their mark,
perhaps to spell the word
surrender.
© Graham Sherwood 08/2015
No comments:
Post a Comment