i am the canary
in the binary
singing bars hard

distal phalanges
tap the app
till these trills mean something

the oolong tea leaves
in the bottom of the witch's teacup
told me doom and bloom

was nigh
as ****.

her words quavered
like dead grass clippings falling up
into the discerning violet scry

This regretful overture, it hounds the drum, it persists.
Penetrating soul and bone in proof it exists.
Ignoring fault-lines held within the trysts,
And notches embroidered upon bloodied fists.

Letters and words,
So near yet so far,
Whispering to the bleeding heart,
Indifferent as you are,
Swaying past your smile,
I understood what it was ,
Days are different,
And we have drifted apart.