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 Feb 2019 East Wind
Rob Rutledge
The knife feels kind of nice.
Despite the fact it intrudes,
Protrudes from a wounded back.
The price we pay, I guess,
Closeness never quite manifests.
But it's good to know, you know?
Those who feign familiarity
Friendships staged and put on show,
Critics acclaim, shamed curtains close.
Characters who grew into the role
Far fetched with hyperbole.
Lines they speak with finesse
Lies smooth the noose of regret.
Confused they peruse part two.
I think therefore I forget.
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