You tell me you love me soft, rehearsed
A balm that does more harm.
For lips can deceive but eyes are tears,
And warmth can also perish because lips still struggle.

You envelop around me, holding only your name,
And never have I ever been as stonewood.
Your shoulders, an enclosure without an access key.
My words, wind that blows through me.

I beg in quiet, plead graciously,
And do not rejoice about your appearances.
No asylum there, no sand.
A stranger, who I no longer recognize.

You talk of love as still being,
And drown me year by year.
And every time I ask for your hand,
Slip between fingers, as sand.

You vow that I'm yours you never reveal
The type of attention that makes these statements true.
You behold me suffering, and turn away, And give that love that vile Decay.

Left to decay where there is anything. This container of us, these silent chains. Still holding on, still being hurt by. With love given, but given back.