By Just Some Girl
Date: 4 April 2001
Fusillade
Thief...
Of words.
(Stealing) what was already yours.
Growing under your skin
like prickly rash.
Spinner...
Of fables.
(Creating) stick figures, soulless,
from soured love. Dancing to your
jagged reality.
Entertainer...
Of ghosts.
(Serving) dinner to vapor.
Blooms of Gardenia
lingering in your kitchen
Victim...
Of noise.
(Orchestrating) the tape, again,
of my “Baby” whispered
in your ears.
Loser...
Of light.
(Blinding) holes in sight.
Darkness beside you at dusk.
And day. And day. And day...
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