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.