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His tongue was forked

wrapping around that sermon, like a sweet buffet

swallowing and chewing

he never hit me

but what he said cut me down

and left me trembling

before the law

I guess some friends

are better left as enemies

She was beautiful, strangling

that rumor until it bled

another drop of sorrow

she never touched me

but her gossip was the thief

that stole any chances I had of living

above the lie

I guess some lovers

are better trapped in poems and stories

confined to wrinkled papers

crumpled

and left behind with the garbage