by Linda M. Crate
Rancid wings of poison
drift into my shores by
way of your words; you
tell me all is well, but
there is a darkness that
shrouds these lies, a shade
of shadow hanging on
these utterances; fortune
seemed to sing in my favor
until the teeth of your stars
plunged their candles into
the tapestry of my life –
I used to believe that this
may just have been some
front and that you truly loved
me like you had once promised,
but I learned the truth quickly
enough you were false like
fools gold you would have
eluded and fooled me if I
would have drank your poison.
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