All this mock concern.
All this false hope.
My, my, I’m touched, but
where were you when the world went dark
and my eyes were hungry for light?

——

Hope is a dirty word.
Is it a coincidence then
that it is made up of four letters?

—–

This is a strange world
bleached of color and shadow.
Faces form a featureless grey picture
against the background roar
of burning bridges.

—–

Is wrath better than grief?
Is hate better than love?
Equal number of letters
forming mirrors. Which reflection
shall I choose? Which dress
shall I wear?

——

I’m made of stone;
unwanted tears begin to
freeze in my core
to reform frost lines
along old fissures.

—–

While you slept
a happy dream
everything broke apart
here. Will you gloat and do
your dance of triumph now?

—–

All it needs is one sharp stroke
and everything will end
forever.