Giving, loving, laughter
flip like a tarnished token
when resentment and
shattered trust are awoken.

Secrets of silence,
of words not spoken,
lie in veiled whispers,
promises broken.

Choose, you ask, hungering for
words best not spoken.
Have you someone new?
Am I a mere thought, a forgotten token?

This secret passion for truth
in your breast now awoken?
Too late, too late!
The present is withering; it’s broken.

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