The crooked smile

That once caressed her eye

Falls flat

Hollow

The honey on my lips

No longer tastes so sweet

Leaving the bitter taste of burnt coffee

My love has grown weary

Arms folded across her breast

Eyes alight with fire

Venom dripping from her tongue

An ocean from her lashes

My love has grown weary

I reach out for her

To find claw tipped fingers

When did I become my father?

I ask her.

When did I become my mother?

She responds.

Our love has grown weary.

So weary …

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