you told me you where done.
shoulders bow bent and
holding the weight with surprising
"I'm done with now, I could die," you said.
your words, moral and
justified, mumbled between
turning tables like tricks with your
your straight teeth teasing, allowing them
to see how lies can
blow luxuries into glass-to gain
light in silence.
and, we make the salted butter in house.
And I knew it was true. because
your eyes where gone,
telling me nothing. so I knew it was true.
why not I thought silently,
been tasted, with boring tongues;
and its tiring believing
that only sober eyes
see the truth.
I offered you the night,
required to sleep, but your answer was no.
so there's nothing I can do for you.