return to poetrydust
Deserved
Let me crack the whip
Across his tongue
Let every cut express
Every knife thrown into me.
I have knives I want to throw back
But I won't
I don't want to, in any way
Reflect you.
Let me scatter embers
Still hot over his skin
Let me press the fiery coal in
And let every wince
And every hiss and yell of pain express
Every thorn he's poked into me
Every tease, retort, every cruel sneer
Of sheer arrogance
Be reclaimed,
destroyed.
You aren't arrogant now, are you?
you're more withdrawn than I am
But unlike you,
I won't get straight to the point this time
I'll go slow,
Yes, you aren't anything now, are you
Your mask is melting off your face
The rusty coloured drops scalding, burning you
And you'll never be arrogant
Again.
---
Note: (Clearly) marks the end of the ex-muse poems. When we pass by in the corridor we act like we've never known each other, all because we slammed the door of the past. I'm occasionally tempted to turn around, start conversation again but I realise that it's only his face that's the same, that everything inside has changed. And I keep walking.