He looked at her like she had done a bad thing.
He looked at her like he hadn’t committed a single betrayal.
Amabel embodied the perfect surface for blame and punishment.
Never was she allowed the same endeavours.
What do you want from her?
In his face a disgust, unjust.
Amabel never thought she deserved more.
Amabel, in the cage with beasts.
They would never be part of her universe.
Amabel threw a fake bad conscience back into his face.
They owed each other nothing, and yet he expected everything from her.
This boy with his thousands of arrows.
They act alike.
Amabel wants to hold up a mirror to his face as he holds his girlfriend’s hand.
Exchanging glances only they perceive and understand.
Nobody sees the arrows.
The wounded ego and the whore.
A word rolling off too easily from the wrong mouths.
Amabel had lost her hope in terms of love.
And yet her heart regenerates every time her lovers undress her half-heartedly.
RECITAL BY CROQUE-MELPOMENE ON YOUTUBE