I sang the song of the absolver, two years ago.
Yet you as a blade, still glide through my skin.
Naive to think the summit had been reached,
Your pain was not of importance.

Now the plates have shifted, the cyclical nature of all plays out.
To gaze at you as an entity of two, bores cavernous pits within one's soul.

You've weaved a hopeful shroud
That you adorn with seeming innocence.
And burden me with a second task of absolution.
That had been reached before.

You, the architect behind these dreams,
Construct and crush hope at will.
Your desires stoke an old flame,
Extinguishable and expendable am I.

A sealed tomb, disturbed.
Careless, and unknowing.
Fortify your confidence,
With acceptance.

A sealed tomb disturbed,
My woes are not known.
Each blind glance pierces me.
I cannot live, and you cannot see.

Few see through your innocence,
And those few are bitter.
The flower of disdain is tainted,
By roots of love.

Twa,
Being one, your sting evolves.
Twa,
A calf feeds and is shunned.
Twa,
You mother a poison.
Twa,
I, a husk of memories you choose to forget.

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