If I see you again, I swear it's just a reflex
when my second phalanx goes crashing through your orbital ridge.
The third, the fourth, the fifth: succession is meant to be swift,
until there's nothing left of the eyes you saw me with.
It was never revenge for a glacial silence:
you are emptiness.
It was never revenge, it was self defence:
you are emptiness.
If I see you again, I swear it's just a reflex…
leaving bones in splinters all over your face.
It's no mistake when the zygomatic arch breaks.
Cracks in the sagittal suture: my love, it's your future.
