In the darkness we sit,
With a stranger in our midst, uncomfortable silence.
The silence, shaped like a rakefire,
And we sit staring at our hands,
In the stifling embrace of hours empty of talk.
Your breath, lined with the tracings of cold
Is in league with the silence.
It floats between us, a familiar friend who
Had once rocked me to sleep now
Tickling down my neck in a perfidy.
I want to take the silence,
In both my hands, and break the tiresome,
Disfigured beast that suffocates us.
I want to smash the mirrors that reflect
Days, and your laughter
Strained, heart-rending in its
Tiresome circle of awkward detachment.
You deface the idols of your fabled supremacy,
With your lack of masculine overberance.
You should have thrived
Under my discomfort
In the sighs of my untamed mind yet
You settled against my skin, the heavy sediment of tolerance, and
A narcissistic revelation of self-importance.
We were steeped in silence, without your
Judgement pressing down on me,
Isolated by our own, rather dismal
In response to wordle #115