Retractable Claws

no colors for the kitten. no lies for the math. only the slumbering contrition of spoiled dogs. 

the terminal armor that wears our consent. in temptation's diminishing alibis.

we count not the distance. only the choices that take us there. 

mercenaries in frilly dresses. drawing their pictures on trembling skin. 

time falls like rain. our fingers made of paper. as we reach to touch. 

no laughs for the jester. no blood for the blade. the war ends quietly.

only we remember how many graves we've dug.