A Porcelain Tongue.

March 22, 2012
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This ceaseless deprivation will carry you

to a place you ostensibly would’ve given your heart for.

The lover smirks in doubt,

Claiming their affection is genuine.

A reply is the piercing laugh
of a porcelain tongue,
which scrapes metal through each spoken word.

She whispers to her companion,
disguising thoughts beneath the
wires of black hair that conceal her-

“A tangible marionette is what she has,

nothing more, nothing less, than her yearning






pitiful








distress.
And she will not embrace the strings I cannot obtain.”

She curled her frail finger tips
Over the dark pit upon her face,
gasping air into soiled lungs
whose uproar can be heard
with every breath she takes…

“You mustn’t try and discontinue my destined triumph.

Tell me, what good is it? To touch love but only grasp it in your mind?
What good is it… to allow another human to steal the fantasy you’ve
been longing for?”

The man nods in reply,
with either sheer belief,
or absolute apathy.





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