You told me you were terrified
of what was to come.
Well, if it is any solace to you,
I feel the same.

using but only a sword and daggers
in a battle of rifles and muskets
would be naught but suicide.

the barista asks
"milk? cream? sugar?"
i'd like cream and sugar,
please.
i don't take black,
it's far too strong.
i have a bit of a sweet tooth,
and it's always far more present
in the morning.

I glared, not cocky,
and pulled a card from the deck.
I hoped for a King,
but I pulled a Joker.
He laughed, too,
when I hoped for a Queen
and received only a Jack.
I hold no trump card up my sleeve,
nothing to save me,
not even an Ace.
I grimace, I surrender;
I accept my defeat.

I do not condone
your pitiful suggestions
for potential partners
that are so dull,
mundane.

you may have collected my tears
in a cork bottle
but my emotions,
however,
cannot be contained
in a jar
for I have far too many.

You bring me petunias
from your ****** garden,
hoping to hear
what you like.

I apologize,
for I may be broken,
but I am certainly not
a liar.

I cannot tell you
what you would like
to hear,
for I have been hurt
beyond repair.