Spam

we couldn’t speak even if we wanted,
because i know you do
and sometimes, even i do,
but the echo of your words
rings like horrid chimes of lies
and distrust leaking from the sweetness
your lips have left on mine,
i go back to being the pitiful
and pathetic, as you said
without thinking about whether
or not your fingers meant them.
but that’s what differentiates
the ground below my feet
from yours.
i’ve always meant the words I said
even when I was blind
unlike your flat apologies
that i have come to spite.

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