Old
Habitual, rote faithfulness
Adherent to rotational, gravitational patterns
Latchkey Love
Learned avoidance, practiced to perfection
Like clockwork, the thrill won’t work
Time, you are becoming
Old

Old
Habitual, rote faithfulness
Adherent to rotational, gravitational patterns
Latchkey Love
Learned avoidance, practiced to perfection
Like clockwork, the thrill won’t work
Time, you are becoming
Old
Mock human
Mocking human sorrow
Under a guise
A disguise
Of shared humanity
Which, were you to dig deep
You would dig
Had you any true depth at all
Too much to bear
Lying there
By your side
Dying inside
Doubting twin
Stranger to yourself, you
Strangled, then stifled
My abundance
Magical beat-downs
Neither finger nor voice raised
Black and blue and dazed
My trust and hope, drained
Wear your lying, victim’s eyes
Cloak yourself in feigned faithfulness
Lady-friends who rescued you
Shall soon become your targets, too
On the surface there’s shine
Polished and forged
So as to showcase
A most lovable lie
Their accolades, yours
As my ears cringe
For there is that shallow, shallow heart
Dulled early
Tilled over
By one finely chiseled intellect
That what fear, I fear to wonder
They can never hear