The Lady Speaks
"Moments devour us
ever since we have been speaking
a language we don't understand...
we, like stale wine,
evaporate into parallel lives
crushing dialogues into pieces
of shards that taint life’s season,
red-berried and tone-deaf.
In splinters of broken syllables,
my flesh walks on thin glass
as words are ruptured on cut edges,
much too loud in din of nights
trashed on weeds of our near betrothal's demise,
that I favor another who gifts me with respect.
While disdain explodes in your eyes,
you stare at my man with stone ire
as my breath dares to will stark truth.
Leave then... this arranged marital pact
ends as I speak. And please do not answer back."
Contest: Brian Strand
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2013
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