Bitter leaves and broken hearts
Made sweeter by your prose:
Those sugar-spun carousing lines
You claim you can't compose.

The laughter spilling out like breath,
To tangle in the sky.
The screen becomes a storybook:
Talked over and tongue-tied.

Discordant verbs drift out to sea
Without a backward glance,
And pixels form a stream of words
Which from your lips advance.

Finagled hopes find new relief
In the contours of your pledge.
The softer voice takes precedence,
Above the razor edge.

Still all I say with frenzied force,
As an accent to the past
Is that fallacy may fade away,
But character will last.