Across the Aisle

You hold sadness close to your face like a precious petal of fading light. Such slopes and curves please my eye even with so little emotion to divine. Portioning your hope in the sliver with botox certainty duly taunting until the boredom heaps on top to creak the flex of your bones. In the reflection of your iris, I catch glimpses of your bounding past behind the poise and disappointment held firm now upon your cemented jaw clutched firm in deception for survival, able to taunt the serpent before cracking his skull into the wall. As you pack up your journey a gust billows through me to warn of discontent's message, idle hands shall wrench until raw.