Little Silver Daggers

There are little silver daggers
In every whispered word,
Every stolen kiss,
Every fevered embrace.

Little knives that score little cuts,
Carve shallow trails,
Leave narrow ruts.

How long can we expect to run?
How well can we expect to hide?
We’re running out of patience
To say there’s nothing inside.

And with the elephant not only
In the room, but having broken
Through the window,
How do we deal with what we’re doing?

We’re hurting her.
I’m hurting me.
You’re hurting you.
And that damned elephant is
Breaking apart the whole china shop.

Those little silver daggers
Will be the death of us all.

Little Silver Daggers

Adam Winbigler

Clinton Township, United States

  • Artist
    Notes

Artist's Description

Secrets don’t make friends.
And the course of true love never did run smooth.

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