I wasn't the flower in a vase,
          more like in amber,

Captured within a vessel
of unreachable ambiguity.

I was seen but not heard,
                a silent movie of beauty,

That screamed silently,

                                  but was
         smiling on the outside.

My other half, was the remote,
                 batteries never inserted
so instead hitting the screen but

not where bruises could be seen..

For perfection shouldn't be blemished.


They didn't have a mute button,
   only loud when alone..

"Morning,

Was the catalyst for the repercussions
         of anothers manners,

         but I never answered back,

but still I was flirting with my looks..

I'm freely caged, never able to fly..
       Instead I perch clipped wings

never aloud to fly beyond there eyesight.

after the last autumnal rainfall has washed away
the remnants of the hurtful summer past
and with it, any residual feelings of want or desire for you
this gloriously mixed with the diversion of my eyes
and recalibration of my heart's attention
i'm still left with this feeling of resentment
and betrayal at your hands
which once knotted so seamlessly in mine

it is from this deeply ingrained feeling
that i know with crestfallen certainty
that i will never call you a friend
no, but you will merely be faintly etched in my memory
as a blemish, a person that i trusted
only to have that trust forged into a dagger
and relief that i did not give you any more of myself
with which you could sharpen it

it is from this realisation that i am forced 
to redefine the trough of this wave called love
highlighting the lowest depths of emotional exploitation
where you expose yourself, bearing your chest open
to another, so that they can have your heart in its entirety
but you encounter the true nature of another's character

a character that you may have only seen glimpses of, if anything
but one that will form their final portrait
in that dark unvisited corner of your mind
for as long as your memory will care to retain it
for the only beauty in betrayal is the subsequent clarity that it entails