deepundergroundpoetry.com

the bitterness that swells isn't a symphony

Itís not what you say
itís how you say it
like the doom of our friendship
is imminent
and I canít open my mouth
to speak words that wonít
add to your bitterness

Because I donít like the martyr
youíre dying to become
like this lack of love
is worth the suicide in your chest

I donít know you any more
your wide-eyed Peter Pan complex
turning dark with age
and the lost wonder
of too many empty years

I said your secrets would be the death
of happiness
and you pretend like youíve forgotten
the late night highs on the other side
of his fence
while your husband waited at home
waiting, waiting for you to let him in

And Iím tired of your angst in my veins
like youíve forgotten to how to laugh
and see the silver lining of the clouds
above you

We arenít above the death of love

© Indie Adams 2015
Indie
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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