In Control

I’ve never met an end so quiet.

So conscious.

So centred in the head over heart.

We analysed the magic to death.

Picked slowly at its flesh until only garish white bones were left.

Shaking in their nakedness.

Cold and anorexic.

Starved of trust. Of love. Of sex.

We drew the curtains before anyone could call our bluff.

Shine stage lights on the smoke and mirrors.

Proving to that ever present audience that we had never been fools.

Oh yes, we’re always in control.

Puppeteers that know each string by name.

This is one yanks growth

Tugs communications jaw.

This one jerks compromise to life.

Honesty, kindness, space, intimacy,

No one could ever say we didn’t know what we were doing.

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