Always, Tirade! Forever, Sulk!
A moment born: so, settle a lie for me.
You’ve been close to me, dear one;
you’ve been close to this beaten-down heart.
Broken-in, in many places, you’ve never had the courtesy;
my jaw, so cracked up, with missed chances to speak,
with all the words caving in my mouth, flouting teeth to get out.
For you, in any form it can muster, my love won’t leave in a hurry.
The words often puncture my skin; they have a mind of their own.
Seep into lairs, burdened with what they mean. The weight they carry
and how best to explain; nothing is left but the pauses in-between;
my dreamy heart and what it leaves—a residue. Take a break from
the right path—so full of holes, like a machine-gun’s muse.
If I don’t know the right word, I won’t bother asking you.