Sshhhh!

The point was well and truly missed.
Instead, he became defensive, reactive.
Was it a guilty conscience?
She couldn’t tell.
She became confused; afraid to speak.
Her words were being taken in the wrong way.
Best to keep quiet for a while –
at least until his sense of humour returned.

I shook her; metaphorically.
Told her to get a grip; open her eyes.
She didn’t know, couldn’t know,
that he’d been in love with me
for the past six months
and saved all his funnies* for me.

 
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*possibly a euphemism

Exquisite Manuscript

We are meant to be together;
leather bound like an exquisite manuscript.
We play our parts magnificently;
partners in love and crime, joy and sorrow.
When the curtain is down,
we go our separate ways,
prevented from turning the page
to a shared tomorrow.
We are meant to be together;
leather bound like an exquisite manuscript
barred with a clasp of gilt,
tarnished by the mask of guilt.

The Last Time

I’m not sure where this darkness came from…

It was only a small misdemeanour
A slight tremor in the foundations of her world
But as she looks in the mirror, she glares at her reflection
A girl from yesteryear; the one she swore not to be
Not after the last time

It was only a small misdemeanour
A tiny tear in the fabric of her reality
Yet it’s ripped lives apart, stitch by fragile stitch
Fraying the nerves of an already damaged mind
From the last time

It was only a small misdemeanour
An indiscretion, if you please, that lacked discretion
A glance in teary eyes that return a guilty gaze
A weight so heavy, it buckles the knees of Atlas
Just like the last time

It was only a small demeanour
Yet the blade’s first cut cuts deep, deeper, deepest
Swirling red stream bleeds away her dreams
No more strength of heart, visions fade to blackness
That was the last time