by Linda M. Crate
you're a loaded god complex
cocked and pulled
looking for another notch
to etch in your bed post always
searching for more to satiate
your thirst, an imp in gentleman's clothing
i mistook your lust for caring,
and now i'm paying the price my little
broken heart chipping past the
point of repair; you asked me not to feel
betrayed, but how could i not?
you took all my flowers from me;
promised me that I was unforgettable then
forgot me in a land of despondency
where lonely country roads crushed me beneath
their weight of sorrow —
your love was the romance i was most
enamored with beneath the silver moon that shimmered
in your hair i felt immortal even invincible
now i've fallen like a lamb before the slaughter
choking in the blood of our dying flowers,
and your empathy has dissolved;
devolving into some selfish monster you don't even
lend me a hand to stand on my own two feet
again you let me stutter over my own
syllables simply stating that it's sad so sad and you're
praying for me —
we must pray to a different God because mine
is one of love
yours one of indifference.
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