Empty bed, cold sheets...the curtains of my loneliness.
To encase the memories between my lips and kiss them goodnight and farewell.
I am under your spell,
your shadow; embarking on a journey with you without the operative word of “mine”
Visibility is clearer, but the soles of my feet and the rivets of my soul are hopeless.
Breaking to the sound of my muse in a witches ear.
You are under her spell,
embarking on paths to nowhere with the operative word being “used”
Visibility is faded, the orbit of her laugh and gleam in her eyes tools of infection.
Feeding she does on the tongues of your compassion.
You are attention, a momentary flavor before the next.
She is full of bullshit and lies,
beauty of skin and knife;
Embarking on a path that she knows to be yours and mine, with the operative word being “take”
Visibility is brittle, wanting to know she can.
Travel she will between him and you and always the lies they will rot.
You are a target for her mockery of what she lives without.
She is the cold stone of winters that stay relentless and furious,
always hurting and bruising in her need for redemption.
Embark we three two in hand,
one in the shadows watching,
waiting for him to fall to his knees with the operative word being “fleet”
Visibility is timeless and aching from my side of things.