Titles are Overrated

Part 115

Darling,

do not mistake

my words for anything more.

I'll stroke your soft cheek

but I will not kiss it.

Gaze into my eyes

and see the white lies

and flecks of brown

that remind you of the earth.

It's not what you think -

not what you want it to be.

I've buried people,

feelings -

beneath the dirt.

Your chin is cupped 

in my bloodied hand,

and you look at me

as if you cannot see it.

Love is blinding

like the sun,

and still -

you stare at it.

Doesn't matter if

you burn, does it?

But it does,

and you will.

As you melt into my arms,

you burn,

and I stroke your back

with the silver blade

of everything

you thought we would be. 

fall head over heels into your grave