Again strangled.
I feel,what should be life's blood,
Dripping from my neck.
Where you kissed, so easily.
Words unspoken, yet so vain.
So usurped from my meaning;
So ridiculous I should feel  like this, at my age.
My adage, my head held high, I fall at my feet.
You should call this a reckoning?
I call this, your surrender,
For you could help not but be bound by your emotions,
And you know as bountiful as they are,
I am devastatingly beautiful, by your very touch.
So very disguised by your interment,
Than your face.
It is clear however, that you are after,
Something I have worked so hard for.
I do not mask myself from you,
Though, the tape becomes opaque after your words.
You're not going nowhere my dear,
You know I have more than you to, give.
Go now,  give face to some other demon,
Who reflects your very face.