Unblemished perfection

I
get
framed for
my murder
as Hitchcock might say
it is unblemished perfection

The choice

only a few embers remained
should he burn his house
our use them
to light
his
path

and
they
never
knew who he
really was – truth
be told nor did he know himself

oh
how
could she
reach out and
lend a helping hand
she was a damsel in distress

the smell of victory was sweet
why did it go foul
treachery
or guilt
was
it

you
have
entire
city wrapped
round your ring finger
they sure worship your aurora

a bottle of hope sat on shelf
he drained it all and
smelled whiff of
freedom
at
last

I have fallen for you alright
it’s not gravity
bending time
to a
stand
still

the color of her affections
doesn’t any more
cloud my frail
judgement
does
it

therefore we taste every word twice
once how I cook it
then how you
slice and
dice
it