Coenotes (cee’-no-tees): Repetition of two different phrases: one at the beginning and the other at the end of successive paragraphs. Note: Composed of anaphora and epistrophe, coenotes is simply a more specific kind of symploce (the repetition of phrases, not merely words).
I am the reason for your total undoing. A terrible mystery with dimensions of misery stabbing at your hope. As your optimism bleeds on the dirt, I have broken your spirit with the hammer of regret and guilt. No peace, no solace, awaits your ruined soul. I have embraced you with deceit.
I am the reason for your total undoing. And now you are undone, like an errant shoelace, an untied bow, an unplugged chord, a fallen clothesline, a snapped loop, a broken hinge. I have embraced you with deceit.
I am the reason for your total undoing. You are caught. You are revealed. You are had. You are suffering. I am the undertaker that will bury you deep in the dirt and litter of your undoing. I have embraced you with deceit.
You may be asking, “Why?” It is my hobby to ruin people’s lives. I have wealth. I have good looks. I am glib. I am eloquent. I am easily able to entrap and seduce people like you: discontented, ignored by the people who should love you, looking for a thrill; feeling old, resentful, and ready for a change. Given my seductive skills and monetary resources, it is almost too easy. You’re the 61st woman I have destroyed—31 married and 30 in committed relationships—you’re number 31 in the married category. And what’s really funny is that my hobby isn’t illegal! As long as I don’t blackmail or extort, I’m good to go. Adultery is legal, but clearly, there can be severe penalties.
Go ahead and call me all the names you want to call me. It’ll give me a laugh: bastard, MFer, asshole, blah, blah blah. The deed is done, and it came up “unfaithful bitch” for you, baby. I’ll be calling your husband in a few minutes. What will he do, forgive you? Ha ha! Dump you? Put you out on the street? Beat you? I’m betting on dump you.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
You bitch. Call 911. I’m . . .
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).
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