Cold, brittle words
Snap beneath my fingertips
In fur-coat guises
Parading as cheer.
I try out my ice cube impersonation
When I freeze your teeth and pin down your running tongue
But I drip off the edge every time you come knocking
With pain in your fists
And a shine on your eyes.
This is inpropriety.
This is war.
Star-crossed in the truest sense of cliche
With a hurried bundle of words and
Heartstrings I can't untangle
But know that this is wrong.
You infuriate the silence
On the wrong side of my door.
You are an
Inside out skeleton in the padlocks
And you shouldn't be here
Shouldn't be here
On my side of the door.
My silent throat screams "Turn the clock forward"
But my arms open up and whisper.