there are secrets—
in the pocket of my black coat.
you'd rip the ribbons from my braid
and show me how to love
in whispers.
tearing me apart,
only to put me together
and feel accomplished:
like you were the first
to step foot on the moon
or to kiss me.
i love you dearly,
with your olive eyes
and crooked smile.
you weren't very good at love,
and i was very good at lying.
in the shadows of the moonlight,
you kissed me crudely.
(you'd never kissed anyone before.)
you told me you loved me—
and i told you,
lies ridden in the sentence,
that my love was not for you.
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 9:07 PM UTC
there are secrets—
in the pocket of my black coat.
you'd rip the ribbons from my braid
and show me how to love
in whispers.
tearing me apart,
only to put me together
and feel accomplished:
like you were the first
to step foot on the moon
or to kiss me.
i love you dearly,
with your olive eyes
and crooked smile.
you weren't very good at love,
and i was very good at lying.
in the shadows of the moonlight,
you kissed me crudely.
(you'd never kissed anyone before.)
you told me you loved me—
and i told you,
lies ridden in the sentence,
that my love was not for you.
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