freedom rang, last night

freedom rang, last night,
her message filled with thrill,
and might, despising
that apple pie and (geno)cider
left cooling on the windowsill.
and still, her voice held that sour bite,
the hope filled until of willpower
spilled from lips sealed tight.

yet, in her earful
her words were slurred,
and lost behind that
mindless wave of chat and
lack of chance,
and gave that grave sense
of misbehaving,
with rabble-rousing on her breath.

and she was mumbling
something, maybe, about
when you were only blooming.
how you had this voice,
this soothing something, this
grooving, dancing, flame unmoving
that now, abusing, still you claim
what was only ever her in name.