Your sentences rotate like your tongue is a revolving door.
I can lip-synch the next phrase if you give me the chance.
The same five words spill out of you when I beg for more,
And I am not sure if this is a nightmare or a trance.
Yet you call it romance.
Delays, silence, and automated replies…
But I am too paralyzed to put weight on your lies.
Your worries levitate somewhere above my head like birds,
And I do wish I could be heard, but the screams make me weak.
We are cutting open our love, cutting it into bloody thirds.
You told your friends I cannot leave you for a week,
Then wondered when my smile was bleak.
The silence is now all yours.
Go and beg the gods on all fours.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 