You coated your words in spice;
fragrant lies perfuse deep inside.
Wrapped and bundled and brandished
in bouquets of flowering excuses.
You’ve taught me a lesson;
after letting those words of yours
taint the inside of my head,
dripping into my heart.
Spoilage, wasted.
Never could you have committed
any crime more cruel.
When your flowers wilt
and fade,
when your spices turn rancid,
I will know what it was.
You never loved me at all.
You can replace me in days.
Find a new love to call.
Apparently she fills the voids
I couldn’t anymore.
Take those fanciful dreams of yours,
of you and me and memories,
and bury them alongside what’s
left of me.
I don’t need to be pulled along
into your little playground;
your little fair, exhibit, of
times gone by when we
once touched.
Just know that I’m still the one
who took you exploring.
I’m the one who offered you a different
revolution.
I’m the one you worshipped naked before you
not very long ago.
And you, girl.
I can only offer you such sympathy.
Because you’ve opened yourself to the same shadow,
the predator in all loves;
the one that toys and bends and preys on that
vulnerable little parcel of yours.
The one that beats for him.
But don’t forget it also beats for you.
And do you really want him to tease and taunt and
hold that thing?
Poor girl.
When he brandishes that same bouquet at your door,
you know it’s time, poor thing.
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 2:56 AM UTC
You coated your words in spice;
fragrant lies perfuse deep inside.
Wrapped and bundled and brandished
in bouquets of flowering excuses.
You’ve taught me a lesson;
after letting those words of yours
taint the inside of my head,
dripping into my heart.
Spoilage, wasted.
Never could you have committed
any crime more cruel.
When your flowers wilt
and fade,
when your spices turn rancid,
I will know what it was.
You never loved me at all.
You can replace me in days.
Find a new love to call.
Apparently she fills the voids
I couldn’t anymore.
Take those fanciful dreams of yours,
of you and me and memories,
and bury them alongside what’s
left of me.
I don’t need to be pulled along
into your little playground;
your little fair, exhibit, of
times gone by when we
once touched.
Just know that I’m still the one
who took you exploring.
I’m the one who offered you a different
revolution.
I’m the one you worshipped naked before you
not very long ago.
And you, girl.
I can only offer you such sympathy.
Because you’ve opened yourself to the same shadow,
the predator in all loves;
the one that toys and bends and preys on that
vulnerable little parcel of yours.
The one that beats for him.
But don’t forget it also beats for you.
And do you really want him to tease and taunt and
hold that thing?
Poor girl.
When he brandishes that same bouquet at your door,
you know it’s time, poor thing.
