Mute

i. questions

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

Fluttering hands and
fluttering heart.
Oh, so many times a question’s
been asked.
Truth tumbles out like
a cursed waterfall.

“Dead.”

ii. answers

“I never wanted you to know.”

Admitting more so than you
and destined fingernails,
brittle to the stars.
Flailing limbs of punishment’s
end defied fairies
their spider webs.

“Maybe I wanted to know.”

iii. asking

“What happened to you?”

Lashes over eyes betraying
the answer doesn’t waste
away into desiccated
bones hiding the secrets
in its marrow.

“I don’t know.”

iv. replying

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Delicate fingers brush
the sweaty drops away until
the tears stop falling and
the words tumble out – a
promise just waiting
to be broken.

“I won’t.”