Don't put your blame on me.

Discontent with silence, you begin again with the lowest of murmurs. It's barely audible so as not to arouse suspicion. Your murmurs turn to humming but it's a cold and calculating song, meant to entrance and, when the moment is right, deceive.

With the bat of an eyelash, your make your move, whispering seductively into the ear of the one who  desperately needs your words.

"I'd never wish to offend, of course," you sing, high and clear. And you have her right where you want.

Oh, the integrity. Oh, the kindly heart.  Oh, the regret.
The need to believe.

Blink, blink.

It's hard to say where the deception began. Was it the serpent or the women God gave you? Wickedness lays all Her cards on the table but it's obvious enough where it ends.

I heard how your voice cracked. The shame you desperately need to unleash is reverberating.

Bravo. You own it all.

Hasn't there been enough pain and tears and regret for your liking? Won't you just retreat to your corner with all of your players and Stay?
And, please, leave me be with mine because you don't have ears to hear anything we have to say.

I'm not apologetic and, it's clear, you're not sorry.

The difference is that I have nothing for which to be ashamed.



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