I think I’m angry
With you
The double dichotomy of words
Both with and at
All encompassing the ever growing redundancies of phrase upon fragile phrase
Hand upon hand
Your hand a sliver in my heart
It beats
Beats like a funeral drum as the fires and pyres are lit
Beats like fists on chests
A piercing war cry
“Cry for help,
No one will hear you” stuck in the quicksand
:a fly in honey:
“Oh honey what have you done?”
I think I’m angry
With you
But
I’m angrier without you