I scavenge secrets that you softly whisper,
to the darkness’ moon-wise sky.
I sense your agonies,
I sense the aftertaste of pillow-tears,
I see the shadow-cries beneath your eyes,
I hear the muffled misery you try to hide
when you tell me “all is great, my friend”,
and cracking up we laugh together…
just pretending that we care.
I sense the growing rot beneath your skin,
I sense your bones too close to breaking
and I wait another day
I lick my scrumptious scrounger-lips,
for yet another night of confidence and trust
whispered trance-like to the treasonous twilight,
while I join my pack to slander-laugh at you,
waiting for your empty carcass to be left.
For Shay at toads writing to one of her pictures.
April 22, 2019