Fall on your Sword

With box knife in hand and a flutter of your tongue,

I am hijacked by your silhouette.

How exhausting to be you, always angry,

Scowling through your cigarette.

Those looks like daggers thrown at my head.

Did you tell your concubine my secrets?

 

There was a time I clamored to your sour thoughts

Now your fragile charms and backwards feet tug at my

Marionette strings, each entangled around a pointing finger.

You may shield your felonies from strangers,  

But I enabled your petty crimes and debt.

 

When you walked her to the car my weather-beaten pulse wouldn't shut up.

I am not there to be belittled, blamed or undercut.

 

And I, Struggler, pull shrapnel and wires from my hair,

Stand in a fog and realize, even when I dream of forgiveness

There is your face with your battle-cry�"tongue haunting me.

Reviews

[Tim M]

Wow! Great, visceral imagery. I loved this, there was almost a narration going on between the metaphors, and I felt and saw everything vividly. Well done!