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Two Knives


the sun is down, and so  
it's time, but  
she says that she can't  
take them off  
  
we go inside, where  
the light is kind  
yet, still she shades  
where her eyes are.  
   
has what she's seen been so cruel  
that she wears knives for eyes  
she stares, in a defensive posture  
ready to shred everything  
offered, in front of her  
   
even my hand, half extended;  
i sense her tense-ness  
and i reach no further  
towards her danger.  
   
i pulled flowers from the yard  
broke their necks  
like a fowl for dinner  
-sacrifices, for potential smiles  
from her locked lips  
yet no exclamations possible  
for even simple beauties  

no trade, of acknowledgement  
her expressions are absent  
as if she's cut enough down  
all along, by herself  
   
i sew all of my poems  
into a kite  
string them with my history  
hopes that she will see  
how high, the loft, of my goals  
the purity, in my trying  
-times to make her less blind  
   
an abrupt glance, it is done  
she cuts this yarn of mine  
my kite, my life, ambition  
spins, swirls from cruelty  
away  
and out of sight  
   
no sun, tomorrow  
no morning, for light to herald  
she's locked it, away  
it only remains in the glare  
of her mirrored gazes  
reflecting back at me  
what was, and what will be  
no longer.  
   
~~~  
Written by Styxian
Published | Edited 13th Oct 2022
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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