BROOCH

You wear your charm

like a jewelled brooch,

only worn for public display.

Your smiles and kindness

are cut glass which sparkles

but has no real value,

gems of the imitation kind,

a cheap decoration,

a fake.



I hear you return.

You unclasp your brooch,

lay it aside

and reveal the underlying

fabric of your personality.

The roughly woven material,

flawed and coarse,

roughly stitched, ugly,

tears at my soft skin

with a sandpaper tongue

until it bleeds.


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