as i exposed my soft spot to you like a stretching porcupine
you smiled
and raised the dagger
pure accuracy.
the blood runs red, red, red
waited for you like a lost child
What did you say again?
"trust me."
coaxed me, kissed right between the crooks of my neck
you knew, oh, you knew.
So i took the blindfold
took my chances
got lost in the woods.
delusional with pure anger.
sold, said Benedict Arnold.
Pride tomorrow. First poem.