The tears on your cheek are warm as I am cold,
my anger tearing through whatever wings you had
to keep yourself afloat.
They fell as quiet on the floor as you are,
teardrop on teardrop, the tiles a passive witness
to my show of strength.
And this is how I destroy myself, word by word:
the very mouth that kisses you keeps the venom
but it is I who dies day by day.
My death will take place the day your wings
are healed, has found new strength,
the courage to rise:
I will be frothing in the mouth
but you wouldn't care.
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