Your stories left upon my desk,
like cherries on an untouched cake,
I read as much as I could take,
blood stained sheets,
torn from the bed,
where we once lay.
Your pages telling quite the tale,
of love, lust, hate and betrayal.
Nothing quite prepared me
for this unkempt wolf,
to be the sheep.
Like a lamb, I drank you in -
your words seemed so sincere -
I told you why I lived in fear
and you ate my heartache, without a second glance,
(swallowed it whole,
waiting for me to (un)fold.)
You persevered I'll give you that,
but all this time behind my back,
weaving little mysteries, with girls you were so happy to please;
"No" was always on my tongue,
I'm far too old, you're far too young.
But time was wearing all too heavy,
Your gaze strong, my sight unsteady...
I walked into an easy trap,
Deer in headlights,
theres no going back...
one kiss - one touch, I'm on my knees,
Skin to skin, no light between,
writhing in pure ecstasy.
It's funny now,
I can't believe
after all this time
I'm still naive.
Two years clean,
washed down the drain
drenched in sweat, deceit and shame,
the stench of lust
musky and sweet.
So, tell me now -
you're not the same?
Your stories plunged into my chest,
A near fatal blow
with less intent
than any feelings
you pretend.
Cool to the touch, my blood is still - yours pulsates, fired for the thrill.
My heart is torn but not with stake
- a splinter left to irritate.
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