i was a deceptive,
you were naïve.
but we worked together
in a way that almost
seemed impossible,
but since i was able
to slip you filthy lies in
little boxes with cute bows
on them, and since you loved
opening presents, i guess that made
everything alright.
i mean i was (borderline) a
pathological liar, and you were
so susceptible to my hopeful
lies— you really do have a thing
for presents with bows on them—
i guess it was somewhat acceptable
because no matter how many times
i lied to you, as long as they were nicely
wrapped in sparkly wrapping paper and
had that oh-so precious bow on it,
everything was okay.
but fuck that bow.
and fuck you too.
__
such an abrupt ending to match my abruptly ended mood
