Virtue signalled

You’re welcome to thrive
on the sympathy they sing,
but never rest in the pretence
of mind it may bring,
to think it not your hand
that drove the knife in.
My lover, my killer,
myself an irrelevance,
a means as a mirror
for your significance.
To serve in this respect
yields no honour
but to serve you
deserves platitude...

Sunflower bows
now summer’s over
you soak in the fine light
that it delivers,
but its rays are electric,
plastic and vacant,
their sincerity survives
no deeper inspection.
You’re welcome to thrive
on the sympathy they sing,
but never rest in the pretence
of mind it may bring,
to think it not your hand
that drove the knife in.