She(He)

November 20, 2011
You wretch
Sew up the selfish cries and take them someplace else
The audience are tired
So tired
But you don’t care, not really
Each syllable points inward, squeals “victim!”
Until there’s some response
Even then, it’s never
Enough, your subtle lilac undertones
Are not subtle anymore
And now, a saliva of bitterness
Dissolves our centre stage
Sprays across my youth
And that’s not fair.
You “love” me?
No, you poor old girlish shell
You do not “love” me, not really
I’ve been a vent this entire time, your sympathy supply
We dealt it together,
Welded in our sadness contract and
Sharing self-pity like needles
But my dose doesn’t matter, not to you
You whimper, missing
Chromosomes, aching between "X" and "Y"
And in a slashed
Short scene
You’ll turn
To twisted,
snappy edges
Of hostile
Words
Slicing me, but you “know” how much it hurts?
No, you’ll never know.





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