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Poisoned Tea


by Darryl Price


There's something wrong with being so 
right, my dear. You turned non-conformity 
into conformity. 
You used the light in music's presence 
to blind the love in their hearts 
with freezing coldness. You ran out 

of human kindness long before 
you sold yourself to bitterness 
and white-knuckled hate. Call that what 
you will. You chose lying to cheat 
and called it individual 
freedom. You did not care enough 

to be the one to make a major 
difference to the sky's smile. I 
believe they are only calling you 
back home into a trap of more 
poisoned tea with we love you, we 
love you so much. You remain the 

prettiest face I've ever seen. 
It's not that funny to me, the 
midnight fool says, stepping out at 
last. There's something criminal about 
hiding your heart from my unspoken 
torch all this time. You used 

to remind me it's alright. Now
it's a long day of not knowing 
how to feel anything beautiful.  
I wonder, when can you hear 
me? Are you still there, shining, but 
like a destructive laser beam, 

or a mad miracle in the 
hidden middle of a forest? 
Take it slower, my dear. That's all 
I've got for you. I always miss 
you like a singular blossom 
in a song's dream I've ever had. 




Butterfly

by Darryl Price


A little torn corner
piece of paper,

the color of a 
kitchen sponge,

drifting in and out of
sunny winds.
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