Saturday, 17 May 2014

The clock only moves forward

Come on,
The hurt can't be that bad...
Can it?

I hear anger in the voice I imagine
But it is only words on an LCD screen
Laced with vitriol
And the lingering fragrance of jealousy...

Blame? Yes. It's easy to foist that onto someone else
Make them take the hit
And the fall.
Then chalk it up as another failure.

And that monster lurking behind your steely gaze
Smiles inwardly, content, satisfied
At the blood it has spilled
As your lipsticked mouth curls into a cold grimace of distaste...

...yet, that choice was yours as much as mine.
There's your bed, you made it,
Just lie there and suffer.

The clock only moves forward
And I've laced my boots to venture forth
Shut your mouth, swallow your pride
I've already closed that door.