Weak Platomic Forces

I see in your silence,
a tree of life,
with branches so high
you won’t let me climb.

I smell your tears,
off your pillow,
from a heart so dry,
yet so moist and weary.

Wake up.
Look around. Speak.
Break out.
From a hold so weak.

I hear you loud,
over your secrets,
over what’s allowed,
under your lipstick,
I speak in tongues,
I know I try,
Fire in my lungs,
From the filth I decry.

A spiralling inferno,
A sick, twisted tease,
I say yes, you insist no,
As I lay wide awake,
You snooze at peace.

A window open wide,
Only for you to see,
The faded wall behind,
the falling intimacy,
Toss me my mind,
Only for a second.

I wonder what delights me,
How ugly this has been,
or how unhealthy it could be!

Picture by Hugo (Unsplash)

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