Beneath the garden
shed, her bones bleed
Without much notice of
decay.

Smells of rotten garbage
Permeated the building
Of her demise
Without much notice of
isolation.

Souless, lifeless carcass
Becomes her as she loses
Unconsciousness beneath the
Rotting soil.

And the malevolence
Took over.

for the make-believe
world you spun around me
infected with webs of lies,
seeping with the decay
of our own insecurities.

yet the sad thing
is I believed you were
my beautiful Guardian
Angel dressed as Satan.

i am
not
a box
where
you
can
confine
the broken
pieces
of my heart
as if
it was still
whole.

i cannot
repair
what
you irrevocably
broke
with
your deceitful
and lustful
eyes.

i am not
a box
where you
can place
your demons
anytime
it is convenient
leaving me
with the burden
of carrying their voices
inside my head.

i am
not your puppet
and you
are not
my master.

sweet
chocolate
naked
and afraid
hidden
deep
within
the crevices
of the
vanilla.

never
withdrawing
from its
sticky
twisted
grip.