The Coming

 

Strange voice, soft tone

Rash deed, I am alone

 

Small hints, different smile

Heedless, in denial

 

A nasty silence halts the air

Every molecule holding its breath

She just stopped in the middle of a sentence

Slight warning would’ve been fair

 

Was it something I did?

Or something I said or not?

Her face is a riddle or a blank

Depending on who’s reading it

 

Shallow breathing and nervous eyes

I’m giving myself away

With every passing moment

Way too late to be telling lies

 

Who am I to pass judgement?

I’m just a humble servant

Whose fate is trembling on a thin line

Of her tolerance or resentment