i was standing at the edge of a very long fall
only to find i never existed at all

your delicate frame was bent
in the act of beseeching contrition

like remorse was a mask to be worn
like penitence was a role to play

my opulent frame was bent
in the act of torturous punishment

like sadism was a game to be mastered
like a grudge could be beautiful art

your delicate frame was bent
in the act of  beseeching contrition

like mercy was a place we had visited together
like absolution was a time that you had marked in your calendar

my opulent frame was bent
in the act of humorous revelation

like it had taken you a year to realise
that there will be no reprieve here