You said you loved my poetry,
That it was beautiful.
That it moved and writhed like a woman’s body
Under the cage of her predator, flesh pressed hotly against cold steel.
Said you loved how the light flooded out of me,
But you never mentioned how it left me empty most of the time.
You said you loved the fine lines of the words I wrote.
I didn’t know you meant the fragility I always wore
Like a permanent cloak.
You said you loved the melodious rhymes,
But didn’t mention the heartbroken prose that I weave
Between the spaces and curves of my womanly bones,
Eventually turned ugly
And withered with time.
You loved my poetry so much,
When we kissed, you stole the words out of my mouth,
The metaphors and similes and imagery.
Left me empty of diction as you ran away,
The colours chasing after you like trails of blood.
Left me empty of all that light you loved
And caressed with your darkness.
Caged in your darkness.
Left me weightless, meaningless, loveless
As you take it all for yourself.
I am so empty now,
I almost feel nothing for you.
I hope someone someday
Loves your poetry.