The imp lied

Lilt of lute lingers
Blown promise slips through calloused fingers
Nefarious nymphs neuter night sky
that in spite of might
decides to slip slowly by
And why?

Hooks
Hope elopes
Slope’s skimmed surface softly descends
Sends descendent, dented and spent
to fall quietly away, slender, unkempt
Well-kept contempt contending with empty space
Concrete and lace embrace
before fallen face of our Lady of Grace
encased in graceful place

O’ wasteful days
Wisp away
Whisper no more, lest I choose to stay
Lest all the balls and chains
the falls, the strains
fair calls, failed refrains
restrain themselves no longer

Why maintain inane walls no stronger
than wind with which we built them?

Knife and hilt
and blood split between them

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