Your affections are not gold.
They are more like acid showers,
like thin tendrils that compel
a deep dark inner shiver.
The grating timber
felt like summer in
early December,
when I was yearning
for the cold of winter.
Fingers like shadows
strangle day light
and when I say no
you say you might.
We may have been
friendly at first,
but it hurt when
you tried to push in
to be more than just friends.
You know what they say
how you can’t trust men.
Well *******,
you just proved them right
once again