Fangs of a Handshake

a turning heal isn't always seen
coals blackened as butt meets eye
thanks to the trust
uncaring for what caresses temporarily
as it is made into a useless conjunction
for the waste of disgust
baring what being becomes
the mars of betrayal
leafing off an oozing ear
and the bleeding heart pumps no more

nice to meet a gracious greeting
within the question mark of why
flesh tears as the pupil peals back
a lack of vision relies on hind sight
naivety comes such as familiar seasons
remorse can leave like snow
apathy lays in wait
so much black ice to make flow
a blade into a backside  

Poem by M.E.L. (accompanied charcoal drawing entitled Marks on Doom also be m.e.l.)