You were my muse
What was love then is now just abuse
You point your finger and cried, "I was used!"
That everything I said,
you were only falsely accused
You told me, "I know what you did,
and I know what I felt"
Well darling I'm not the one who said,
"Your death could not be helped"
You gave permission
To all that was done
It was you who grabbed me
And thought that was fun
You wiped your hands clean
And lied with your tongue
Said you didn't realize
I was struggling to run
What is love
when it all goes wrong
It is just poison
I kept for too long
When you walked away
My heart wasn't torn
Just the thought of a boy I once loved
Is now long gone
YOU ARE READING
Two Years Late
PoetryA collection of moments where rhyming was necessary. Short, simple poetry; yet, those who relate - too many. Weird titles for humor, but that doesn't make the poem experience less painful. Those titles are painful to me though. You'll see.
