From My Perch

after Carlton Nell’s, “After 283”

complemented by The Weeknd’s, “The Birds pt. 2”

The fabric of their relationship spread

across the forest floor, mangled

amongst the predacious vines of

ignorance and folly – balancing

their hatred for lies and heartless lust.

Contempt on his tongue slipped -

indulgences of sandpaper kisses, papercut bliss

don’t hem the exposed wound of

infidelity.

She pleaded, hands on the heels

of his feet, bleak streams of beauty

rolling off her chin, that she

meant nothing.

Only I and the speckled eyes of God,

bore witness to the limped flight

of another blackened dove.