a tinge of

a tinge of rightness
in all that is wrong
just enough to justify why
we remains as an us
in the separateness
of you and I,
which refuses to separate at all.
and it is no justification-
because I already have the right
of what makes the things about me wrong-
without you here to amplify-
within me what I’m aiming to get out.
but all I can do is look in and
point out-
scream out-
throw out-
push out-
all that I see broken in you-
and how it crumbles in me.
there is no more justice
in the crimes we commit-
the only thing seemingly committed about us, is that…
with just a tinge of nothing left
in what consumes me.

  1. #1 by SalvaVenia on May 17, 2014 - 3:43 pm


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