i really hadn't a care
about who he was
who he called himself,
or,
what others called him,
all that mattered to me,
at the time
was that i was alive and in love,
and he claimed to love
me back.
i should have noticed
that something was wrong
about him.
how he said
all that he needed to and not a word more,
how he never said anything
out of place
and kept knowing
what i was thinking.
i should have realized
that he was using me.
but then,
i guess that if i did,
i wouldn't be lying here now
in a puddle of my own scarlet blood.
he always did say
i looked good in red.
if only i realized sooner
that he wasn't my love, and instead
that he was my enemy.
after all
there is no greater enemy to life
than death himself.
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Hidden Message
PoetryA collection of poems, and random thoughts of mine. Won't be updated regularly, will contain mature subject matter. Give it a look if you like. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ I see you there, Smiling, Weaving beautiful tapestries with your words. They hang on to every word...
