Bruit, archaic noun & verb, a rumor or to spread a rumor.

Hear the words,
Bouncing in my ears,
Ignore the stares,
The whispers and leers,

Look above,
For help I pray,
To leave these cares,
That I cannot throw away

Rip from my chest,
My soul and heart,
Feelings I cannot handle,
They’re tearing me apart

Dew drops on grape vines,
Tear drops on rumors
Rising a scandal,
For the hungry consumers

A mouth resists,
A chance to say no
Tasting salty drops
That are not just for show

Streaks on a face,
Red cheeked and screwed up,
Wishing for stops,
I’m not ready for my closeup

Eye to eye, nose to nose
When they’re not going to letup
I can’t get a grownup
Or else this will get blown up
I don’t care about their breakup
Nor do I need a followup
Looking for a coverup
As they knock for a checkup
At least I got the heads-up
To put on a little makeup

With these bruises, Contusions,
Black eyes falling to eye-shadow illusions,
Careless whispers of a drunkard father,
I don’t care if they say it’s no bother.

I cry, I crave, I rave,
For another life yet I don’t want to leave,
But I don’t want my¬† friends to have to grieve

For me
You shouldn’t have
A little reprieve is enough for me
What they perceive, my relieve
He does not aggrieve,
My heart for him is not broken yet
Nothing left that I can bet
But my future I not only predict
I know it’s set

The path I take,
I leave in my wake,
Salty dew faces,
And yet,
I cannot feel
Surrounded by the silence
Of an absence of grapevines,

Nothing but relief.

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