You're wrong.


My skin bristles at

Your words,

I feel them impaling

My soul

Sending poisoned splinters racing through

My veins.

My primitive instinct contorts every fibre of

My being.

I'm on my guard,

Against you.


I yearn to turn around,

Confront you,

Scream that you are wrong,

Introduce you to reality.


I never believed your lips could form

Those words.

Those cruel, harsh


You've let me down;

I dislike your thoughts


But who am I to judge?

You see me as I see you,

Clinging to the opposite cliff face.

In opposite colours,

With opposite words seething on our tongues.

I wish that you would join me

On my lonely cliff ledge,

Perhaps you wish the same

But never will I watch the sun set from your perspective.


Good night.