Full of riches,
Full of hearts.
Trust:  a commodity
So easily traded
For what was never promised.
A kiss like death,
A millstone carried
For no reward but
My own
Self-destructive
Satisfaction.
How deliciously
I cut and seared
My own flesh,
Savoring
Each flaying stroke.
How beautifully
My body twisted
To fit the tale
I wished were true.
Wounds still fresh
From the biting needle
That tattooed the lie
On my desperate
Wanting soul.