Stockholm
I laugh behind my grim expression
I gaze back at a boy
his legs weak,
speech stuttered,
eyes diverted from
the woman standing
on top of him
her nails draw his blood,
her feet crush his bones,
and all the boy does is
smile his nervous smile,
for he is in complete
bliss
I shake my head
I laugh behind my grim expression
this is the only
way to deal
with tragedy:
keep it light or
keep it without
meaning
the trick is keeping it within your mind,
far away from your heart
I look back at the boy
I shake my head
I laugh behind my grim expression
I look at myself
lost in Stockholm
Syndrome;
You’d call it
love
