Hearing the Fall
Closing this door was easier than I expected. I actually did not even take a second glance at you to watch the light wash from your eyes. You never understood the depth of what I ever thought, and you seamlessly walked forward believing to yourself that you never felt it either.
The amount of insensitivity in your breath and tact gives me enough momentum in my grip to find great sensation as I hear bone splinter, plunging this steel into your left ear. Oddly enough your expression as you sleep looks benignly the same as it did before I ever stepped into this room.
Did you really believe that I would just sit in my abode and ingest the parade that you put on in front of me? Did you actually find this part of the story to be more of a dessert than that of the main course?
Now that your head has more of an open view, you can hear the things that were dancing outside your door. Maybe the splitting of your matter can permeate inside, finally to water the thoughts that you once believed to be true.
As it goes to say ‘too much, too little now’ is the lullaby that is singing you to sleep. Hearing the point embed into what I understood to be the back of your skull was the graffiti I needed to leave in your mind, reminding you of those fairer days when words into ears carried more than the weight of a lash.
Hard was the fall dear, and the sentiment paints heavily upon your brow.