A reckless word softens the burden of a cheap insult,
escalating the blow of another, you’re a fucking losers.
Bitterness cues up a sarcastic grin left hanging in the bittersweet tide of a solitude Carolina sky, leaving excuses to the chandelier’s wolves that fell when she slammed the door.
Even the warmth couldn’t melt her icy heart with a humid drop of sweat on the side of an apology, dripping from her lips.
Real love leaks through the cracks in her fury, tangled in bed like two losers, falling in and out of love without a sense of shame.
(Dusting off Dreams currently #12 out of 167k in poem)
(© 2020 AC)