Your shoulder blades
were curved and sharp,
Little did you know,
They would be the weapon
that would pierce my heart.
I never believed what they said,
About how actions speak louder than words.
I always thought that was absurd.
How naive I was to think,
You wouldn't abandon me in the dark.
You turned and left without a blink.
The blades of your departing shoulders
Piercing my heart.
YOU ARE READING
Oleander-COMPLETED
PoetryALL RIGHTS RESERVED Her words were like oleander flowers, so delicate, like a gossamer spider string, but poisonous, like her scarred, despondent heart. *in other words, my crap poetry that is still really important to me*
