Sickly sweet, honey dipped words
You whisper saccharine lies
Through rotten, rotten teeth.
I can't stop staring at them-
While you don't stop looking at me.
You forget I have seen your insides-
Rotten blood, rotten brain, rotten heart.
The rot of your soul manifests elsewhere:
In every fibre of your filthy being,
Every place you poison with your touch,
Every false condolence you give me.
I want to succumb
To the smooth beauty
Of your stolen words.
I forget too, sometimes,
what your insides look like.
Then one look into your remorseless eyes
I can't take anymore.
I leave, and you breathe a sigh of relief.
YOU ARE READING
Phosphenes
Poetry"The colours aren't real. Words bring them alive." An iridescence of poetry.
