Wednesday, June 15, 2016

A Series of Near Misses by smzang

The razor edge
of brutal honesty
takes its pound of flesh

You wince
when it hits too close
and I
feel the sting
of martyrdom
when your aim finds home
as if ruthless truth
is not enough
there are the lies
the flung arrows
venomous as any bite
but these
are just the odd moments
of discontent
We retreat
then reunite
a truce
born of more
than pinkie swear
this better and worse.